Closer Than You Think
by Jestana
Summary: AU of 'Out of the Clear Blue Sky', Tracey gets a letter when she's eleven that sets off a chain of events she never expected. EPILOGUE ADDED 06-17-04
1. The Letter

1. The Letter  
  
A/N: I feel so pathetic. I'm writing an alternate version of one of my own stories! Anyway, I got the idea for this while I was writing the epilogue for 'Out of the Clear Blue Sky' and it just wouldn't leave me alone.  
  
July 4, 1994 started the same as any other day for Tracey Cooper. She woke up early for a summer day, got up, got dressed, and went downstairs for breakfast, announcing her arrival with, "Happy Independence Day!"  
  
"Thank you, Tracey," Ryan Andrews, Tracey's stepfather, replied as she kissed his cheek, "and happy birthday to you."  
  
"Thanks, Dad." Tracey sat down at the table.  
  
Her mother, Sandra, set a plate in front of Tracey with three fluffy pancakes, two strips of bacon, two sausage links, and two hash brown patties. "Happy birthday, Tracey."  
  
Tracey grinned as Sandra set a tall glass of chocolate milk beside the plate. "Thanks, Mom."  
  
Having already finished his breakfast, Ryan left the table to wake up Tracey's half sister and brother, six-year-old Lynda and four-year-old Jeffrey. "So, what would you like to do for your eleventh birthday, Tracey?"  
  
Tracey swallowed the bite she'd taken of her pancakes. "I'd like to see my father. My _real_ father."  
  
"What?" Sandra dropped Ryan's plate, which she'd just picked up, and it hit the floor with a resounding crash. "Oh, God."  
  
"I'm sorry, Mom." Tracey got up to help her mother clean up the broken plate.  
  
"No, no, Tracey, it's all right," Sandra told her daughter, waving off the girl's offered assistance. "You just surprised me, that's all."  
  
"I didn't mean to, Mom," Tracey replied, slowly resuming her seat. "It's just, you've told me so many times that I look like him and I'd really like to meet him."  
  
Sandra sighed, setting the broken shards on the counter behind her. "I understand, Tracey, but I'm not sure it's entirely possible for you to meet him."  
  
"Why not?" Tracey asked curiously. "Isn't he still alive?"  
  
"Well," Sandra hesitated, folding her arms across her chest and looking up at the ceiling, "the thing is, I'm not sure if your father is still alive."  
  
"Oh." Tracey looked down at her plate and toyed with her food. "Well, would you like me to pick something else to do?"  
  
Sandra shrugged, turning to pick up the broken plate. "Well, your first choice might be hard to do."  
  
Tracey nodded, wishing she hadn't made her mother break the plate. "Okay."  
  
A gasp from Sandra made Tracey look up. "Oh, my."  
  
"Mom? What is it?" Sandra slowly turned around, the broken plate now whole. "Wow. That was quick, Mom. How'd you manage to fix it so quickly and easily?"  
  
"Um," Sandra looked down at the plate and back up at her daughter, "that's, uh, my little secret."  
  
"Okay." Tracey went back to her breakfast. Her desire to find her biological father was a recent development. She had her mother's small, slender build and her face was the same shape, but she didn't have Sandra's brown curly hair, or her hazel eyes. Instead, Tracey's hair was long, wavy, and auburn and her eyes were a bright, piercing blue that twinkled when she was amused or happy and ice-cold when she was angry. Tracey just wanted to know the man who'd given the hair and eyes to her. She sighed.  
  
Sandra turned from the sink, where she'd been cleaning dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. "Tracey, are you alright?"  
  
Tracey set her fork down and sat back. "I don't know, Mom. I just feel like something important should happen today, but it hasn't."  
  
Sandra walked over and hugged her daughter. "Oh, honey, the day's still young, you never know."  
  
Tracey nodded, hugging her mother back. "Thanks, Mom. How does a picnic sound?"  
  
"It sounds perfect." Sandra kissed the top of Tracey's head just as Ryan entered the kitchen carrying Jeffrey, trailed by Lynda, both of whom were looking sleepy. "Hey, kiddos."  
  
"Hi, Mummy," Lynda mumbled around a yawn.  
  
"'Lo, Mommy," Jeffrey added.  
  
Leaving Tracey to finish her breakfast, Sandra began to make breakfast for Lynda and Jeffrey.  
  
* * *  
  
"Tracey, would you mind getting mail?" Sandra requested, hefting a soundly sleeping Jeffrey into her arms. The family had gone on a picnic at the nearby park and enjoyed themselves immensely.  
  
"Sure." Tracey trotted over to the mailbox and pulled out a stack of mail. Most of it was for her parents, although there was a birthday card from Ryan's parents and an envelope of some yellowish-type paper for her. Following Ryan, who was carrying the empty picnic basket into the house, Tracey examined the yellow envelope closely. The address read, 'Miss T. Cooper, second-largest bedroom, 12345 Terrace St, Linden, CA, 98765.' "Hmm, I wonder what this could be." Handing the rest of the mail to Ryan, who'd set the basket on the kitchen counter, Tracey turned the envelope over. It had been sealed with purple wax. A large A with two smaller Ms on either side had been stamped in the wax. Breaking the seal, Tracey opened the envelope and pulled out two sheets of paper that matched the envelope.  
  
~Dear Miss Cooper,  
  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at the Colorado branch of the American Magic Academy. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
  
Fall semester begins September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.  
  
Sincerely, Evan Wilson, Vice Principal.~  
  
"Tracey? Tracey, are you alright?" Sandra's voice disturbed Tracey from her reverie and she looked up at her mother. "Where'd you get the letter?"  
  
"It's addressed to me, Mom," Tracey replied, offering it to Sandra.  
  
Sandra took the letter and read it, her face going pale. "Oh, my."  
  
Tracey stood up, read to catch her mother should she fall. "Mom? Are you alright?"  
  
Sandra waved her daughter off. "I'm fine, Tracey. Could you please tell Ryan that I need to speak with him?"  
  
"Um, okay." Tracey nodded and slowly left the kitchen. She paused in the hallway, trying to figure out where her stepfather was. Voices led her into the family room, where Ryan was playing with Lynda. "Dad, Mom wants to speak with you."  
  
"Okay." Ryan nodded and got up. "Would you mind playing with your sister for a bit?"  
  
"Not at all," Tracey assured him, pasting a fake smile on her face.  
  
He stopped and kissed the top of her head. "Thanks, Princess."  
  
"You're welcome, Dad." She watched him leave the room before walking over to join Lynda on the floor.  
  
* * *  
  
"Sandra? What is it?" Ryan entered the kitchen to find his wife of eleven years seated at the table, staring out the window. "Sandra?"  
  
She turned to him and he was surprised to see tears in her hazel eyes. "Ryan, we need to go to England."  
  
He ran a big hand through his straight black hair. "Any particular reason why?"  
  
"This." Sandra picked up the letter in front of her and held it out to Ryan. "Tracey got it in the mail today.  
  
He read through the letter, dark eyes wide by the time he finished reading. "So, this world you told me about truly exists?"  
  
She nodded, not resisting when he sat down and pulled her into his lap. "I love you, Ryan, don't forget that, but there's a possibility that Tracey's father _is_ alive."  
  
"Sandra, that was over 150 years ago," Ryan reminded her gently, resting his cheek against the top of her head. "Don't you think he would be dead by now?"  
  
Sandra shook her head. "They live longer than we do, Ryan. He could still be alive, even after all this time."  
  
"So you want to go to England so Tracey can meet her father?" Ryan asked, making sure they were thinking on the same wavelength.  
  
"Yes, Ryan." Sandra was so small it was almost like holding Tracey in his lap at times.  
  
"And you have no desire to see him yourself?" Ryan's voice was soft and gentle, with no accusation in it.  
  
Sandra pulled away to meet his gaze; her cheeks faintly pink. "Well, it _would_ be nice to see him again. It's been over eleven years for me, and much more than that for him."  
  
He smiled, brushing her curls back from her forehead. "I don't mind, Sandra. I understand that he'll always hold a special place in your heart."  
  
She returned the smile before stretching slightly to kiss him. Holding her close, he kissed her back. 


	2. To England

2. To England  
  
A/N: Oy! Talk about obsessed! I've already finished another chapter! Sandra tells Tracey the truth and they head to England to find a certain wizard.  
  
"Why are we going again, Mom?" Tracey asked, even as she sorted through her belongings.  
  
Sandra sighed as she opened a suitcase. "Your father may be alive after all, Tracey."  
  
Blue eyes wide, Tracey stared up at her mother. "Are you serious?"  
  
Sandra nodded, hazel eyes somber. "Yes, Tracey."  
  
"How do you know?" Tracey asked as she handed clothes to her mother. "Because of the letter from the American Magic Academy?"  
  
"Yes." Sandra nodded as she packed the clothes in the suitcase. "Because of the letter."  
  
Tracey handed the last of her clothes to her mother. "But why would the letter give you hope?"  
  
Sandra sighed again as she finished packing Tracey's clothes. "I was actually born on March 21, 1845, Tracey."  
  
"But you don't look a day over thirty," Tracey pointed out as Sandra shut the suitcase and opened another.  
  
Sandra smiled slightly as Tracey began placing her books in the suitcase. "I grew up with two boys named Albus and Aberforth Dumbledore."  
  
"Those are interesting names," Tracey commented, packing another layer of books.  
  
Sandra nodded her agreement, handing her daughter more books. "Yes, but they were very nice, although Aberforth was fascinated with goats for some reason."  
  
Tracey giggled as she finished packing her books. "So, why are you telling me this?"  
  
"Albus Dumbledore is your father," Sandra told Tracey as the girl closed the suitcase and zipped it shut. "When he began courting me, he told me that he and Aberforth were wizards. I didn't care. I loved him and that's what mattered. We were married for only a few months when I became pregnant with you."  
  
Tracey smiled, curling up on her side with her head and Sandra's lap. "You must have been about nineteen."  
  
Sandra nodded. "Both of us were. When I was about seven months along, I went shopping for baby clothes. I have yet to figure out how I went from walking along the street in the nearby town, to falling on top of Ryan." Sandra sighed and shook her head. "He was a blessing in disguise, Tracey. Nothing was familiar to me. The weather was warmer and dryer than I was used to, the fashions were a far cry from what I'd grown up with, and the technology had advanced beyond what I knew."  
  
Tracey sat up and hugged her mother tightly. "It must have been scary for you, to be confronted with the unknown like that."  
  
"It was," Sandra agreed, hugging her daughter back. "Luckily, Ryan offered to take me in and help me. We married within a week of our first meeting, because I was uncomfortable living with him without the benefit of marriage."  
  
"But what about my father?" Tracey asked curiously. "Weren't you still married to him?"  
  
Tears appeared in Sandra's eyes. "I had no way of determining if there was magic in this place I'd found myself in. I was Muggle--what wizards call non-magic people--so I couldn't very well try casting a simple spell. As far as I knew, Albus was dead. I annulled my marriage to him so I could marry Ryan."  
  
"So, the letter from the American Magic Academy confirmed that there _is_ magic," Tracey commented thoughtfully.  
  
"Yes." Sandra nodded as she pulled out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. "Since I know there's magic, there's a chance your father is alive after all."  
  
Tracey frowned as she pulled a small duffle bag out and began packing stuff she would take on the plane with her into it. "He must be pretty old by now, though. Wouldn't he have died anyway?"  
  
"No, he wouldn't, because witches and wizards live longer than Muggles do," Sandra explained, watching as Tracey tucked a dog-eared book into the bag. "I would have died longer before now if I hadn't gone forward in time."  
  
Tracey nodded as she zipped the duffle bag closed. "I think I understand now. You want to go to England to find my father."  
  
"Right," Sandra tossed the used tissue into the trashcan. "I'm not surprised that you're a witch, Tracey. Your father promised to be a powerful wizard, even when he was nineteen."  
  
Tracey smiled. "Let's hope we can find him."  
  
"If we don't find him, he'll find us, I'm sure of it."  
  
* * *  
  
"Albus, is something wrong?" Minerva McGonagall's voice drew Albus Dumbledore from his thoughts.  
  
He shook his head. "No, Minerva. I was just...thinking."  
  
She looked curious. "About what?"  
  
"Nothing, my dear." He waved a hand dismissively. "Only about the past."  
  
She frowned at him, but didn't push the issue. She'd known him long enough to know when to push and when not to. This was not the time. "Well, we have the present to think about right now."  
  
"Yes, I know." Albus sighed softly, banishing thoughts of Sandra Cooper to the back of his mind. "There is still much we need to do to prepare for the Quidditch World Cup."  
  
Minerva nodded. "I know there will be Ministry personnel there to deal with any potential problems, but I, personally would feel better if we had someone there, just in case."  
  
"Are you volunteering, my dear?" Albus asked, blue eyes twinkling.  
  
Minerva's cheeks turned pink and she dropped her gaze to her lap. "Well, I, er, this is--"  
  
Albus held up a hand to stop her. "All you had to do was tell me you'd like to go."  
  
"Well, I _would_ like to go, Albus," she admitted, "but only if you can spare me."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure Hogwarts can do without you for a day or two," Albus assured her with a smile and a wink. "Go ahead and go."  
  
She smiled at him. "Thank you, Albus, but wouldn't you like to go as well?"  
  
He shook his head. "No, I'll listen on the Wireless."  
  
"Very well."  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey looked around with interest as she and her mother walked along a London street. "Wow, Mom. This is so cool."  
  
"So different," Sandra murmured, looking around with as much interest as her daughter. "So very different."  
  
Tracey glanced up at her mother. "It's been well over a hundred years, Mom."  
  
"Hush, Tracey." Sandra glanced around; worried that someone had overheard her daughter. "You never know who might be listening, or watching.  
  
Neither noticed the silver tabby cat jump down from a wall and begin trailing after them. "Do you have any idea where to look for my father?"  
  
Sandra sighed and shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't, Tracey. Albus and I never discussed that much."  
  
"Excuse me." The female voice had a slight Scottish brogue to it and it brought mother and daughter around to face a tall, slender woman with long black hair pulled back into a braid, wearing an emerald green dress and a black coat, since it had been a rather cold summer in England so far. "Would you two happen to be looking for Albus Dumbledore?"  
  
Tracey opened her mouth to reply, but Sandra's hand on the girl's shoulder stopped her. "Who would like to know?"  
  
"I am Minerva McGonagall," the strange woman replied. "I can take you to Albus Dumbledore, if you tell me who you are and why you're looking for him."  
  
Sandra glanced at her daughter. The bright blue eyes were pleading. Sandra sighed. "I am Sandra Andrews and this is my daughter, Tracey Cooper. Albus is her father."  
  
Ms. McGonagall's dark green eyes widened for a moment. "Come with me."  
  
Holding tight to her mother's hand, Tracey and Sandra followed Ms. McGonagall back the way they'd come. Within a few moments, they reached a dingy-looking pub and Ms. McGonagall led them inside. The bartender hailed her almost immediately. "Hello, Professor! Looking for a little something to warm you up?"  
  
"No, sorry, Tom," Professor McGonagall replied, ushering Sandra and Tracey through the room. "I do not have time for a drink. Some other time."  
  
"Right you are, Professor," Tom nodded to the professor and turned to his other patrons.  
  
Tracey kept turning her head every which way in an effort to see everything as they were ushered into a quiet parlor with a crackling fire. Drawing a drawstring pouch from her pocket, Professor McGonagall strode to the fireplace and threw a pinch of some glittering substance onto the flames. "Albus Dumbledore."  
  
Sandra and Tracey both gasped when a head appeared in the flames, a long beard sweeping out of sight. "Minerva? Why are you calling me? I thought--"  
  
"Albus, you need to come to the Leaky Cauldron right away," Professor McGonagall interrupted the man quickly. "There is some pressing business that needs your attention immediately."  
  
He gazed at the woman over the tops of the half-moon spectacles perched on the bridge of his long and crooked nose for a long moment. "Very well, I am on my way."  
  
The head disappeared with a 'pop' and Professor McGonagall turned to Sandra and Tracey. "Was that Albus?"  
  
"Yes, Miss Andrews, that was," Professor McGonagall confirmed with a nod as she pulled a piece of wood out of her pocket and pointed it at her clothes. Muttering a few words, the dress and coat became what could only be described as robes. Pointing it at her hair, the ebony tresses rearranged themselves into a bun on the top of her head.  
  
"Missus," Sandra corrected as four wooden chairs and a matching table appeared.  
  
"I beg your pardon?" Professor McGonagall looked curiously at the smaller woman as she sat down at the table. "Won't you sit down?"  
  
Tracey scrambled into a chair while her mother remained standing. "I'm married."  
  
A black brow rose and the dark green eyes went to Tracey. "Not to Albus Dumbledore?"  
  
"A long time ago," Sandra answered softly, slowly sitting down beside her daughter.  
  
Before the professor could ask any more questions, the door opened to admit a tall, thin man with long sweeping silver hair and a matching beard. He, too, wore robes, though his were a rich, deep blue with silver stars embroidered on them while Professor McGonagall's were emerald green. His eyes, though, were the same bright, piercing blue as Tracey's. "Minerva, what is--Sandra? I thought you were dead." 


	3. In England

3. In England  
  
A/N: This chapter was difficult for me to write because I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to do with it. Many thanks to Filodea for offering advice and gently prodding me (at times not-so-gently) to finish the chapter.  
  
"Minerva, what is--" Albus Dumbledore stopped short upon spotting the small, slender woman seated at the table with Minerva. Her curly hair was the same rich brown it had been 130 years ago. The eyes that met his hopefully were the same hazel that had haunted him for weeks. "Sandra? I thought you were dead."  
  
The woman smiled tremulously. "No, Albus. I didn't die all those years ago."  
  
Moving as if he were in a dream, Albus walked over to the table and sat down across from Sandra. "Then what happened to you?"  
  
"She was transported in time," the child's voice startled Albus and, when he got a good look at her he was startled again. She looked so much like he had at that age.  
  
"Tracey, hush," Sandra told the child sternly, having reseated herself.  
  
Albus looked at the woman he'd thought dead for over a hundred years. "Is she right though? _Were_ you transported in time?"  
  
"Yes, Albus," Sandra nodded. "To the year 1983 and southern California in America."  
  
He studied her for a moment. Wearing the more form-fitting Muggle clothes of the day, she looked nice, but he was disconcerted to realize that all he felt for her was a deep and abiding affection. "It seems to have suited you quite well."  
  
She smiled. "My husband, Ryan, is an immense help to me."  
  
"Husband?" he asked, surprised all over again. "Perhaps you should tell me your story from beginning to end."  
  
Sandra nodded and proceeded to do just that, going into more detail than she had with Tracey. "On Tracey's eleventh birthday, she received a letter from the Colorado branch of the American Magic Academy." Albus blinked and smiled. "It gave me the courage I needed to come here to England and find you so you could meet your daughter at last."  
  
Albus turned to the girl, who'd sat and listened quietly all through her mother's story. "Hello, Tracey. I'm Albus Dumbledore."  
  
Tracey looked up at him for a long moment. "Hi. May I call you Father?"  
  
He smiled. "I would be honored if you did, Tracey."  
  
"I'm glad to finally meet you...Father," Tracey slid down from her chair and moved around the table to hug Albus. Though he was unprepared for it, he only hesitated for a moment before returning the child's hug.  
  
"I'm happy to meet you as well, Tracey," he murmured, holding her close. The sound of a cleared throat interrupted the moment and Albus turned to his Deputy. "Minerva, forgive me. This is Sandra. She and I were once married. Tracey is our daughter."  
  
Minerva nodded, shaking the smaller woman's hand. "You never told me you were once married, Albus."  
  
"What would have been the point, my dear?" he asked her, Tracey perched comfortably in his lap. "It had been many years and I had finished grieving for by the time we met."  
  
Sandra reached across the table and tapped Albus' hand. "There's more to our visit than meeting you, Albus."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "There is?"  
  
"Yes," Sandra nodded. "I'd rather Tracey learned magic here in England. Is there any way you can arrange for her to attend the same school you attended?"  
  
"Oh, I think I can arrange something," he replied, smiling.  
  
Minerva sighed and rolled her eyes. "Mrs. Andrews, Albus is being facetious. He is also the Headmaster of Hogwarts and I am the Deputy Headmistress. Between the two of us, we'll be able to arrange for Miss Cooper to attend Hogwarts."  
  
"Thank you, Ms. McGonagall," Sandra replied with a smile.  
  
A rare smile graced Minerva's face. "You're welcome, Mrs. Andrews."  
  
* * *  
  
Minerva was troubled. She had spent the day with Albus, Sandra, and Tracey. Most of the time, she'd remained in the background unless she'd called attention to herself. She couldn't understand why it had troubled her so much. It wasn't as if she really had a claim on him. They were only friends, after all. Best friends, yes, but only friends. She sighed and closed the book she hadn't really been reading anyway. _Let's face it, Minerva,_ she told herself, _you want more than friendship with Albus, don't you?_ However, she had yet to see any evidence that _he_ was interested in more than friendship with her. Setting her book aside, she stood and crossed to the window. She had a beautiful view of the Hogwarts grounds from here, but she wished she could share it with someone--with Albus. Sighing again, she leaned her forehead against the cool glass. She'd only been standing there for a few minutes when someone knocked on the door to her rooms. Turning from the window, she called, "Come in!" The door opened to admit the object of her thoughts. "Albus? What brings you here? I thought you would want to spend more time with your daughter."  
  
"Sandra and Tracey are asleep now," he informed her, closing the door behind him. "Their day of traveling finally caught up with them."  
  
She nodded and crossed to the sofa. "Won't you have a seat?"  
  
"Thank you." He sat down at the other end while she curled up in her favorite corner.  
  
They sat in silence for a few moments. "Would you like something to eat or drink?"  
  
"A mug of hot chocolate would not be amiss," he replied.  
  
She shook her head, exasperated, even as she conjured up a mug of the requested drink. "Only you, Albus, would request hot chocolate in the middle of summer."  
  
"It's never too warm for hot chocolate," he lectured her as he took the mug she offered to him. "Thank you, my dear."  
  
"You're welcome, Albus," she replied before conjuring up a glass of iced tea for herself.  
  
They drank in silence for a few moments before he sighed. "Minerva, I feel an apology is in order."  
  
"An apology, Albus?" she asked, surprised.  
  
"Yes," he replied with a nod. "For ignoring you earlier. I'm sorry; it was rude of me to do so. Please forgive me."  
  
She scooted closer to him to pat the hand that rested on the cushion beside him. "Oh, Albus, you don't need to apologize. I completely understand why you did."  
  
He turned his hand over under hers and squeezed it. "It does not excuse ignoring you."  
  
She set her half-empty glass on the low table in front of the sofa and looked up at him curiously. "Why are you so insistent upon apologizing, Albus? The wife you thought was dead has suddenly reappeared and with your daughter in tow. It's only natural that you would focus on them."  
  
"I know, my dear," he nodded, setting his mug on the low table as well, still holding her hand. "However, the aforementioned wife is now 120 years younger than I and married to another man, with two other children by him."  
  
Minerva felt her heart clench. "She was alone in an unfamiliar time and place, Albus, she needed help to survive."  
  
"Yes, Minerva," he agreed, "and I've come to realize that what I feel for her is no longer the love that prompted me to marry in the first place."  
  
"You don't love her?" she asked, hope rising within her.  
  
"Not as a husband for a wife," he replied, "but as a brother for his sister."  
  
Minerva swallowed hard, fighting against the hope she felt. "Have you told her this? I imagine her own feelings for you have changed as well."  
  
He nodded. "Yes, we have discussed this. I give my blessings to her marriage with Ryan Andrews. It will be enough to see Tracey attend school here at Hogwarts."  
  
"Where will the rest of Miss Cooper's family stay while she is attending school?" Minerva asked, suddenly aware that she was still holding his hand, yet reluctant to release it.  
  
"Sandra told me that she and Ryan had already discussed that matter," Albus replied, his stroking the back of the slender hand he still held with the tips of the long fingers on his other hand. "They are going to move to England to make it easier for Tracey to attend Hogwarts. I've agreed to help her find a flat for them."  
  
Minerva nodded, wondering why the light touch of his fingers on the back of her hand sent shivers up and down her spine. "I see."  
  
They sat in silence for another long moment before he stirred. "I'm sorry, my dear, but I believe it is time for me to go. Good night."  
  
She stood when he did. "Good night, Albus."  
  
She watched as he left her rooms and, feeling light-hearted for some reason, headed for her bedroom to begin preparing for bed herself.  
  
* * *  
  
"So this is London?" Ryan asked as the taxi drove through the streets to the flat Albus had helped Sandra find and buy.  
  
Tracey was literally bouncing in her seat between Sandra and Ryan. "Yep! It's so cool! I love it!"  
  
Ryan ruffled her thick auburn hair. "I'm glad you do, Princess. Something tells me you're going to be here for a long time."  
  
"Thank you, Dad." Tracey curled up against him. "Father is so nice and so is Professor McGonagall."  
  
Ryan wrapped his arm around Tracey and smiled at his wife over her head. "You're welcome, Princess."  
  
When the taxi stopped, Tracey scrambled out behind her mother and waited while her parents helped Lynda and Ryan, both of whom were dozing, from the car and led the way to the flat, with the taxi driver following with the luggage. Tracey turned at the door, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Come on, hurry up!"  
  
"Calm down, Tracey, it's not going to get up and leave," Ryan laughed as he and Sandra made their way up the front walk, Jeffrey in his arms. Lynda stumbled along behind Sandra, one small hand firmly clasped in her mother's.  
  
Tracey giggled. "I know, Dad, but I want you to see this place. Father helped us pick it out."  
  
"Tracey, you've said that before," Ryan pointed out.  
  
She shrugged as Sandra unlocked the door to let the family in. "I know, but it's true."  
  
Sandra glanced up at her husband as she walked past him into the flat. "Yes, Tracey, but there is no need to belabor the point."  
  
"What's that mean?" Tracey asked as the taxi driver set their luggage just inside the door.  
  
"It means stop mentioning it," Sandra told Tracey as Ryan carried Jeffrey into one of the bedrooms, where a cot had been set up.  
  
"Oh." Tracey tagged along after her mother as Sandra took Lynda into one of the other bedrooms, where two cots had been set up. "Why, though?"  
  
Sandra helped Lynda out of her clothes and into her pajamas before helping the little girl climb onto one of the cots. "It's hard to explain, but please don't say much about your father until Ryan has had a chance to meet him."  
  
Tracey sighed as she climbed onto the other cot, having changed already. "Alright, but I still don't understand why."  
  
"Maybe when you're older," Sandra told Tracey before kissing the little girl's forehead, "you'll understand." Without another word, Sandra left the girls' room. Ryan waited for her in the hall and she gladly stepped into his arms. "I've missed you, Ryan."  
  
He held her close, very much aware that the top of her head barely reached the middle of his chest. "I missed you, too, Sandra, but what about Albus?"  
  
"Not here, Ryan." She pulled away and, taking him by the hand, led him into the bedroom. Once the door had closed behind them, she turned to face him. "Now, what's this about Albus?" 


	4. Several Discussions

4. Several Discussions  
  
A/N: Here it is at last. Several scenes were difficult for me to write and I'd like to thank Child-of-the-Dawn, Cielita, CEA, and Filodea for their advice and help on this chapter.  
  
Once the door had closed behind them, Sandra turned to face Ryan. "Now, what's this about Albus?"  
  
He ran a broad hand through his thick black hair. "I don't mean to sound jealous or possessive, but he _was_ your first husband after all. You might still have some feelings for him after all these years."  
  
"Oh, Ryan." She gave a sigh that was both exasperated and fond. "I was married to Albus once, yes, but I am married to _you_ now, not Albus. He is no more than a brother to me now."  
  
He smiled, his hands coming up to rest on her hips. "I'm glad for that, but I couldn't help worrying a little."  
  
She wrapped her arms as far around his waist as she could. "You sired two children by me, Ryan. Does that tell you anything about which man is first in my heart now?"  
  
"Well, I could use a little convincing," he mused, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes.  
  
She grinned and stood on tiptoe to meet his descending head in a warm kiss.  
  
* * *  
  
"Good morning, Minerva, I trust you slept well?" Albus greeted his Deputy one morning.  
  
"Yes, Albus, I slept fine," she replied with a slight smile as she tucked her hand into the crook of the arm he offered to her. Since their talk the night Sandra and Tracey had appeared in England two weeks before, something had changed in their relationship, though Minerva had yet to quite figure out what the change was. "And you?"  
  
He smiled as they walked through the corridors of the school. "I slept fine as well."  
  
"I'm glad to hear it," she replied, content with his company. "Very glad."  
  
He chuckled as they descended a flight of stairs. "I'm glad that you're glad."  
  
She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Don't start that again, Albus."  
  
"Start what, my dear?" His voice was innocent, but his bright blue eyes twinkled with mischief.  
  
"Albus." Her tone of voice was stern, but amusement glinted in her dark green eyes. "You know _exactly_ what I mean."  
  
"I'm afraid I don't, my dear." He began to hum as they walked along the next corridor.  
  
She shook her head. They reached the next staircase and descended it while he continued to hum like a big bumblebee. They had started down the next corridor when she finally recognized the song. "Is that 'Scotland, the Brave,' Albus?" He looked down at her and winked. Her lips slowly curved into a smile. "It is, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes, my dear, it is," he admitted as they started down the marble staircase that led to the entrance hall.  
  
She stopped on the stairs. He took a few more steps, and then turned back to look at her, now eye to eye. "Any particular reason you chose that song?"  
  
He shrugged, a smile twitching at the corners of his mustache. "I thought it appropriate."  
  
"Thank you, Albus," she replied as they continued down the marble staircase.  
  
"You're welcome, my dear," he countered as they reached the bottom of the staircase. "You should try it sometime."  
  
"Try what? Humming?" she inquired as they started across the entrance hall to the Great Hall.  
  
"Yes." He opened the doors to the Great Hall for her. "It's quite relaxing."  
  
She preceded him into the Great Hall. "Sounding like a bumblebee doesn't appeal to me, Albus."  
  
"You, my dear, need to learn how to have more fun," he commented as they made their way to the round table sitting in the middle of the hall, where the members of the staff who'd remained at the castle during the summer holidays were waiting for them.  
  
"I've been trying to tell her that for _years_, Albus," Xiomara Hooch volunteered as Albus held Minerva's chair out for her. "She refuses."  
  
"Your idea of fun, Xiomara, and mine do not coincide," Minerva retorted dryly as Albus took his seat beside her.  
  
Albus held up his hands and the two friends broke off their argument. "Shall we eat, then?"  
  
* * *  
  
The doorbell rang and Sandra navigated an obstacle course of half-unpacked boxes to answer the door. She smiled when she saw who the visitor was. "Albus, come on in."  
  
"Thank you, Sandra," he replied, entering the flat. He wore a pair of khaki trousers and light blue polo shirt. If it hadn't been for his long beard and hair, he would have easily passed for a Muggle.  
  
She closed the door behind him. "What brings you here?"  
  
"I thought I'd offer my assistance in unpacking," he told her as he followed her around the boxes and into the living room.  
  
"That's very nice of you, Albus," she countered, pausing in the middle of the room, "but I think we have a handle on everything."  
  
"Tracey! No!" Ryan's voice attracted their attention. Almost without thinking, Sandra followed the sound of her husband's voice, which had been quickly been followed by a crash and a cry from Tracey. Sandra found the two in the girls' bedroom. Lynda was sitting, wide-eyed, on the only assembled bed, while the other bed lay in pieces against the opposite wall. Tracey was sitting on the floor, one foot out in front of her. Ryan was bent over Tracey's foot, gently prodding it. "It doesn't look that bad, Tracey. Just a bruise."  
  
Sandra walked over to the pair. "What happened here?"  
  
Ryan smiled sheepishly up at his wife. "I had just finished putting Lynda's bed together when Tracey decided she wanted to try putting hers together by herself."  
  
The child's smile was sheepish as well as she took up the story. "I grabbed the headboard, but it slipped and hit my foot."  
  
"Oh, Tracey." Sandra's voice was fondly exasperated as she hugged her daughter. "You're far too impatient at times."  
  
Ryan smiled at his wife, but then his gaze moved past her to the bedroom doorway. "Who are you?"  
  
Sandra turned while Tracey peeked under her mother's arm. Albus stood in the bedroom doorway, looking uncertain. "Father! Hi!"  
  
"Hello, Tracey." Albus smiled at his daughter.  
  
Sandra felt Ryan straighten up behind and turned to look at him. She couldn't quite interpret the look on his face and quickly laid a hand on his forearm. "Ryan, this is Albus Dumbledore, Tracey's father." She turned to Albus. "Albus, this is my husband, Ryan Andrews."  
  
"Hello, Mr. Andrews." Albus stepped forward to shake Ryan's hand.  
  
After a few moments, Ryan shook the proffered hand. "Mr. Dumbledore."  
  
"How's the foot, Tracey?" Sandra asked, trying desperately to break the tension that had settled in the room. It seemed that, despite her reassurances, Ryan was still suspicious of Albus. "Do you think you can walk?"  
  
Tracey carefully got to her feet. "Yep! Good as new!"  
  
"Good, why don't we go to the kitchen for some lunch?" Sandra suggested.  
  
"Yay!" Lynda scrambled down from her bed. Tracey caught her hand and ran with her from the room.  
  
Sandra looked from one man to the other. "Ryan? Albus?"  
  
"We'll be fine, Sandra, go take care of the girls," Ryan told his wife, not looking away from Albus.  
  
Glancing from one to the other one last time, Sandra reluctantly left the room. "I gather you wish to speak privately with me?"  
  
"Yes," Ryan nodded. "Sandra has assured me that she loves you only as a brother and no more. I can't be sure of the same for you."  
  
Albus sighed and waved his wand at the pieces of Tracey's bed. In moments, it had assembled itself, ready for her to sleep in it. "While only eleven years have passed for Sandra, over 130 have passed for myself." The bright blue eyes met Ryan's dark ones. "She is a sister now. No more than that."  
  
"How can I be sure?" Ryan asked suspiciously, his hands clenched into fists. "What assurance do I have that you won't try to take her back?"  
  
Albus folded his hands together, long fingers entwining. "Because another has taken her place in my heart."  
  
* * *  
  
"I do not like this news, my dear," Albus told Minerva several days later.  
  
She looked up from signing Hogwarts letters. "What news is that, Albus?"  
  
"A Muggle has disappeared," Albus explained, offering a Muggle paper to Minerva.  
  
She took it and read the article he indicated. "Little Hangleton? Isn't that where..."  
  
"Tom Riddle's father lived?" Albus finished the question when her voice trailed off. "Yes. It is too close to Bertha Jorkins' disappearance to be a coincidence."  
  
Minerva set the paper aside so she could continue signing Hogwarts letters. "She was in Ludo Bagman's department, was she not?"  
  
Albus nodded, rising to walk to the window. "Yes, the Department of Magical Games and Sports. This will not be an easy year, for them and the Department of International Magical Cooperation, what with the Quidditch World Cup and the Triwizard Tournament."  
  
"I don't know why they decided to hold a Triwizard Tournament this year, of all years," Minerva answered with a disdainful sniff. "After all, they--"  
  
"It is not our decision, Minerva," Albus interrupted gently, turning from the window to look at his Deputy. "It is theirs, though I admit that I wish they had had better timing."  
  
"At least the new rules will prevent the younger students from being harmed," Minerva pointed out, signing letters with more force than necessary.  
  
Albus nodded, crossing to her side. "Indeed."  
  
After a few moments, she looked up at him. "Is there something you wished to request of me, Albus?"  
  
"Actually, there was, my dear," he replied, summoning a chair and sitting down beside her. "Could you please go with Tracey, Sandra, and Ryan to Diagon Alley?"  
  
She studied him closely. "I can understand why you would want someone to go with them, but why me? Why not you? Tracey is _your_ daughter."  
  
He sighed and folded his hands into his voluminous sleeves. "Ryan is suspicious of me."  
  
"Suspicious of you?" Minerva asked, surprised. "Why?"  
  
Albus' gaze turned to the window once more. "Because he fears I will take Sandra away from him."  
  
Minerva frowned. "Why would you? She is happy with him. She is more of a sister to you than a wife now."  
  
"Ryan wants to believe it, that much I know," Albus replied, his gaze still on the window, "but he needs proof, assurance that what I have told him is true."  
  
Minerva gazed up at him, wondering what he was getting at. "What proof can you give him, Albus? How can you show him that your regard for Sandra has changed?" His gaze moved from the window and locked with hers. "I told him that someone else has taken her place in my heart."  
  
"Someone else?" Minerva asked, feeling as if an iron fist was squeezing her heart. "Who is it?"  
  
He held her gaze for a long moment before leaning forward and kissing her. 


	5. Diagon Alley

5. Diagon Alley  
  
A/N: This was an interesting chapter to write. I started the last scene first, and then realized I should at least write Minerva's reaction to the kiss. Thanks to Child-of-the-Dawn/Karuri for her help with that scene. I didn't like the immediate jump, so I added the middle scene, which just kept going and going. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It was kind of fun for me to write.  
  
Albus held Minerva's gaze for a long moment before leaning forward and kissing her. It wasn't much of a kiss, to be honest. A light brush of his lips across hers and that was it. She stared up at him when he pulled back. "Are you saying what I think you're saying, Albus?"  
  
He smiled, raising a long hand to cup her cheek. "That I'm in love with you, Minerva McGonagall? Yes."  
  
"Oh, Albus!" She felt tears prick at the backs of her eyes and blinked furiously to banish them as she raised her hand to cover his. "I love you, too."  
  
He gathered her to him in a close embrace, his arms tight around her. She wrapped her own arms around him, relishing the softness of his beard upon her cheek. "The human heart is an interesting organ, my dear."  
  
"Why do you say that, Albus?" she asked, not moving from his arms, even when he began removing the pins from her bun.  
  
He finished removing the pins and combed his fingers through her long tresses. "Well, we think it will never change, that we'll never love another, and it turns out that we do."  
  
She pulled back and smiled, "Yes, very interesting."  
  
"Indeed." He lowered his head to kiss her again, more thoroughly this time. She gave herself up to the kiss, having wanted it for a long time.  
  
It was a long time before she spoke. "I feel right now that I could shout my love for you to the whole school." She rested her head on his shoulder.  
  
He rested his head against hers. "I feel the same way, my dear, but it would not be wise to do so right now."  
  
"Because everything is so uncertain," she conceded, wrapping her arms around his chest.  
  
"Uncertain," he murmured, gently tilting her head back so he could look into her eyes. "There is one thing that will be certain..."  
  
When his voice trailed off, she asked, "What would that be, Albus?"  
  
He cupped her face between his hands. "I will always keep you safe." He lowered his head to kiss her softly.  
  
She pulled away after a moment. "I refuse to be mollycoddled, though, Albus. Do not try to put me on a shelf behind glass. I do not break easily."  
  
He looked hurt, but the twinkle in his blue eyes said otherwise. "Forgive me, my dear, but you," he ran the tip of one long finger along her jawline, "_do_ break. You are the only person I could count on and, now that I've made it clear how much I love you, I wish to keep you from harm."  
  
"Albus," she pulled his hand from her face, "I understand the sentiment, but do not try to indulge your overprotective tendencies. I _will_ be fine. Please, trust me."  
  
"I will love," he sighed, "I have always trusted you."  
  
"Then trust me when I tell you that I will be fine," she looked up into his eyes.  
  
He sighed again. "Very well. I will not try to protect you."  
  
"Thank you, Albus."  
  
"You're welcome, my dear." He lowered his head to kiss her once more.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey opened the door of the flat when Albus rang the doorbell. "Father! Hi!"  
  
"Hello, Tracey." Albus entered the flat and the door closed behind him--not before a sleek silver tabby managed to slip inside, however--as he scooped his daughter up into his arms for a hug. "How are you?"  
  
"I'm great," Tracey replied, winding her arms around her father's neck. "Mom says we're going to Diagon Alley to get my stuff for school. So awesome!"  
  
Albus chuckled as he set Tracey on her feet. "Ah, to be young again."  
  
The child grinned and preceded him into the kitchen. "Mom! Father's here!"  
  
"So I gathered," Sandra answered dryly from her seat at the table, where she was looking through a furniture catalogue. "Will you be joining us on our jaunt to Diagon Alley, Albus?"  
  
He shook his head. "Unfortunately, no, Sandra. Minerva has agreed to join you, though."  
  
"Professor McGonagall?" Tracey asked from where she'd seated herself beside her mother. Albus looked at his daughter and nodded, a smile twitching at his mustache. "Awesome!"  
  
He chuckled. "You certainly love that word."  
  
"Yes and I've been trying to get her to use a larger variety of words," Sandra inserted dryly as she stood up to make some tea.  
  
Tracey's wide eyes were the picture of innocence. "Why should I use lots of different words when one works so well?"  
  
Albus slid into the chair opposite his daughter. "You wouldn't want to be boring, would you?"  
  
"Well, no," Tracey conceded, looking quite serious.  
  
"A variety of words prevents you from being boring," he explained, folding his hands together on the tabletop.  
  
"Oh." Tracey's eyes were wide as she considered his words.  
  
As the tea steeped, Sandra studied Albus for a moment before looking at her daughter. "While you're pondering that, Tracey, why don't you go get Ryan?"  
  
"Sure!" Tracey slipped from her chair and headed out of the kitchen.  
  
Sandra set a cup of tea in front Albus and resumed her seat at the table with her own cup of tea. "So, where is Minerva anyway?"  
  
Albus took a sip of the tea and frowned before conjuring up two lumps of sugar to plop into it. "She's here."  
  
Sandra looked around. "Where? I don't see her."  
  
"Right here." Albus snapped his fingers and the same silver tabby that had snuck into the flat jumped up onto his lap.  
  
"Didn't you once tell me that some witches and wizards can turn into animals at will?" Sandra asked, her eyes on the feline, who was currently being stroked by Albus.  
  
"They're called Animagi," Albus explained as the cat bumped his chin with her head. He chuckled. "Alright, Tabby, that's enough."  
  
Sandra could only stare as the cat jumped down from Albus' lap and morphed into Minerva McGonagall, who was looking quite pleased, actually. "Wow."  
  
"Professor McGonagall!" Tracey's voice interrupted the moment and the three adults turned to the kitchen doorway. Tracey stood there with Ryan right behind her. "I didn't know you were here already."  
  
"Witches and wizards have unique methods of getting in and out of places, Miss Cooper," Minerva told the girl, her faint Scottish brogue softening her voice just enough to make it sound pleasant.  
  
Albus chuckled as he stood to shake Ryan's hand. "Mr. Andrews, this is Minerva McGonagall. She's the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and will be joining you, Sandra, and Tracey on your trip to Diagon Alley. Minerva, this is Ryan Andrews, Sandra's husband."  
  
Ryan shook Minerva's hand. "Hello, Ms. McGonagall."  
  
She held up her free hand. "Please, I prefer Professor."  
  
Ryan nodded. "Yes, Professor." Sandra giggled and Ryan turned to his wife. "What's so funny?"  
  
"You are," Sandra replied between giggles. "You sounded like a little boy who'd just been scolded by his teacher."  
  
Minerva smiled slightly and gestured to the front door. "Shall we go?"  
  
Tracey and Sandra followed Minerva, but Ryan stayed back with Albus for a moment. "I don't want to pry, but is she--"  
  
"Yes, she is." Albus nodded. "You have your assurance now, Mr. Andrews."  
  
* * *  
  
"Oh, wow, this place is awesome," Tracey commented, blue eyes wide, bright, and twinkling.  
  
Sandra chuckled, subtly looking around as well, having never been to Diagon Alley herself. "I'm glad you like it, Tracey."  
  
The girl grinned, holding tightly to Sandra and Ryan's hands. "I wish we could live here."  
  
"Well, I'm afraid that's not possible, Miss Cooper," Minerva inserted from where she walked beside Sandra. Albus had remained at the flat to watch Lynda and Jeffrey. "We need to visit Gringotts first so you can pay for everything."  
  
Sandra, Ryan, and Tracey followed Minerva down the street. Slipping her hands out of Sandra and Ryan's, Tracey scurried ahead to catch up with the professor, unconsciously slipping her hand into Minerva's. "What kind of money do wizards use?"  
  
Although the little girl's hand slipping into hers had startled Minerva, she didn't hesitate to explain about Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. When she finished, the four of them had reached Gringotts. As they passed the goblins, Tracey pressed close to Minerva's side. Behind the two, Sandra pressed close to Ryan, who followed Minerva so closely he almost treaded on the hem of her emerald green robes a couple times. "What _are_ these things?"  
  
"Goblins," Minerva answered quietly. "You would have to be out of your mind to try to steal anything from them."  
  
After exchanging Muggle money for Wizarding money, they left the bank. Sandra breathed a sigh of relief. "Not that I mind or anything, but those goblins were pretty creepy."  
  
"I know what you mean, Mom," Tracey replied, still holding tightly to Minerva's hand.  
  
"Where would you like to go first?" Minerva asked the three, more to get their minds off the goblins than anything else.  
  
"Wand!" Tracey exclaimed promptly, her face lighting up.  
  
Sandra laughed, ruffling Tracey's hair. "Why don't we save the best for last?"  
  
"What do you mean, Mom?" Tracey asked, her free hand slipping into her mother's.  
  
"I mean, wait until we've bought the rest of your school things before we buy your wand for you," Sandra explained, glancing up at Minerva to share the older woman's amusement at the girl's excitement.  
  
"Do I haveta?" Tracey asked, her voice developing a dangerous whine.  
  
"Tracey," Sandra's voice took on a firm tone that Tracey rarely heard directed at her anymore, "would you like some cheese with that wine?"  
  
Tracey looked down at the ground, properly chastised. "No, Mom."  
  
Sandra squeezed her daughter's hand reassuringly. "Good. Now, where do you suggest we start, Professor?"  
  
Minerva had watched the exchange between mother and daughter without comment, admiring the easy way Sandra handled her daughter, who could be rather stubborn and strong-willed at times. "Madam Malkin's Robes for all occasions is where most of the students get their school robes."  
  
"Awesome!" Tracey exclaimed, perking right up. "Let's go!"  
  
Minerva led them down the street to the appropriate shop and watched as the three of them went through the rest of the shops like a hurricane. They bought everything Tracey needed and picked up some extra things that weren't necessary, but were nice to have around. Finally, they reached the wand shop and Minerva excused herself to take care of something for Albus. When she returned, Tracey was clutching a long, paper-wrapped package, containing her wand. "10 inches professor! Ebony with a unicorn hair!"  
  
"Miss Cooper, your father asked me to buy you something very special while I was here in Diagon Alley," Minerva told the girl when the four of them stopped at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor for ice cream.  
  
"What is it?" Tracey asked, blue eyes wide with excitement and curiosity.  
  
Minerva reached into the pocket of her robes and withdrew a small silver kitten. "He asked me to buy you a cat to keep you company at Hogwarts. This is Jestana."  
  
"Oh, wow," Tracey breathed, carefully taking the kitten into her hands. "She's beautiful." Her eyes were shining when she looked up at Minerva. "Thank you so much."  
  
"You're quite welcome, Miss Cooper," Minerva replied, smiling down at the girl.  
  
Without warning, Tracey hugged the Transfiguration professor. After a moment of surprise, Minerva hugged the girl back. 


	6. Hiding It

6. Hiding It  
  
A/N: Yes, Jestana-the-cat is a manifestation of myself. I couldn't resist. :-P Thanks to Filodea for her advice on what direction I should go next. Anyway, enjoy! I edited this and the next chapter because the original sequence of scenes at the end of this chapter and the beginning of the next didn't quite seem right.  
  
Albus was waiting for them when they returned from Diagon Alley, seated on the sofa in the living room. "Oh, Father! Thank you so much for the cat!"  
  
He chuckled as he returned his daughter's enthusiastic hug. "I'm glad you like your present."  
  
"She's so pretty!" Tracey exclaimed, her eyes shining as she settled down beside him. "Professor McGonagall told me her name is Jestana."  
  
"Did she now?" Albus raised an eyebrow and glanced at Minerva, who'd sat down on the other side of him. "May I see her?"  
  
Tracey grinned and nodded, offering the silver-blue kitten to him. "Here she is, isn't she pretty?"  
  
"Yes, she is," Albus mused, examining the kitten closely. She returned the favor, vivid green eyes wide with curiosity. "Oh, what a pretty collar."  
  
"Collar?" Tracey looked closely at the kitten. A black cloth collar encircled the kitten's neck, a green jewel dangling from it. "That wasn't on her before."  
  
Minerva leaned forward, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I slipped it on when you weren't looking."  
  
"Oh, thank you, Professor!" Tracey grinned at Minerva as she accepted the kitten from her father. "It's beautiful."  
  
Minerva nodded in acknowledgement, a small smile blooming. "What did you think of Diagon Alley, Tracey?"  
  
"It was awesome!" Tracey exclaimed as Jestana curled up in her lap, making both of her parents chuckle.  
  
Sandra ruffled Tracey's hair. "What did I say earlier, Tracey?"  
  
"Mo-om," Tracey whined as Sandra sat down in an armchair facing the sofa. "It's true! I can't think of a better word to describe it!"  
  
Albus raised his hand to forestall a response from Sandra. "I have something I must ask of you, Tracey."  
  
"What is it, Father?" Tracey looked up at him with curiosity shining in her bright blue eyes.  
  
There was no twinkle in his eyes as he gazed down at his daughter. "Too many questions would be asked if I were to acknowledge you as my daughter."  
  
The excitement faded from Tracey's face. "What do you mean, Father?"  
  
"While you are at school and we are in public, you can only treat me as the headmaster," Albus explained gently.  
  
Both women knew how much the words cost the man, but the girl did not. She only thought he didn't want her and became angry. "Why? Do you not like me?"  
  
"No, Tracey, no." Albus hastened to calm his daughter, but she would not be calmed.  
  
Jumping up from her seat--and disturbing Jestana in the process--Tracey continued her rant, "All my life, I wondered about my real father. I wondered if he was alive, if he would like me. I wondered where he was, what he was doing. I wanted him to be there when I first went to school, when I first rode a bike without training wheels. I even asked Mom if I could see my real father for my birthday this year." She swallowed hard, as if fighting back tears. "Now I've finally met you and it's as if you're ashamed of me! Is there something wrong with me?"  
  
Before any of the adults could say anything, Tracey spun around and dashed out of the room and down the hall. Only moments later, they heard the bedroom door slam shut. "Maybe I should--"  
  
"No, Albus," Sandra's voice stopped him as he was in the middle of rising from his seat. "I'll take care of this. I think it's time you left."  
  
He heaved a heavy sigh and straightened to his full height. "You're right, Sandra. Good day."  
  
Minerva rose when he did and followed him from the flat. "Albus?"  
  
"I'm fine, my dear," he assured her as she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm.  
  
"No, you're not," she quietly retorted. "I'm here for you, though."  
  
He covered the hand resting on his arm with his own. "I know, my dear." He sighed again. "I know."  
  
* * *  
  
Reaching Tracey's bedroom door, Sandra could hear sobbing. "Is something wrong?"  
  
She looked up at her husband. "Albus made a request of Tracey that hurt her feelings pretty bad."  
  
"What did he ask?" Ryan asked, looking angry.  
  
Sandra held up a hand to halt him. "He basically requested that she not reveal their relationship in public."  
  
Ryan's anger turned to puzzlement. "Why?"  
  
"Think about it," she told him, keeping her voice low. "He's 150 years old. Tracey's eleven. That's going to raise some eyebrows. It's more to protect her than him."  
  
He stared down at his wife, and then looked at the closed bedroom door. "So why is Tracey crying?"  
  
"She thinks he's ashamed of her," Sandra explained, sorrow in her face. "That she did something wrong. I was about to go in and comfort her."  
  
Ryan stared at the closed door for a little longer before turning his gaze to his wife. "Perhaps you should let her be for now. Let her calm down a little before talking to her."  
  
"Are you sure?" Sandra gazed doubtfully at the door.  
  
"Yes, I'm sure," he replied, taking her arm and gently leading her away from the door. "Your son and daughter are asking for you. Their mother has been neglecting them a bit of late."  
  
Sandra had the grace to look ashamed. "I guess I have been focusing on Tracey a lot lately." She let her husband lead her away from the bedroom door.  
  
* * *  
  
"Tracey?" Sandra's voice accompanied her knock. "May I come in?"  
  
The girl scrubbed at her eyes one last time before answering. "Yes, Mom."  
  
The door opened and Sandra slipped inside. She looked serious. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"I have a headache," Tracey admitted, smiling slightly when Jestana jumped up onto her bed, and then onto her stomach. "Hi, Jestana."  
  
"Of course you'd have a headache," Sandra replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside Tracey's hip. "You've been crying."  
  
Tracey sighed, absently stroking the kitten as she stared up at the ceiling. "Why, Mom? Why doesn't he want to acknowledge me?"  
  
Sandra sighed as well, running a hand through her brown curls. "He wants to protect you, Tracey."  
  
"Protect me?" Tracey asked, feeling the anger bubble up inside her. "How will that protect me?"  
  
Sandra laid a hand on her daughter's hand. "Please, Tracey, calm down. He's over 150 now. People would wonder where an eleven-year-old girl claiming to be his daughter would come from and they would be suspicious of you. Better to be considered a Muggle-born than to announce your parentage. At least, right now."  
  
Tracey struggled to reign in her temper and consider the situation logically. "So, it's not because he's ashamed, but because he doesn't want me hurt?"  
  
Sandra nodded, raising her hand to stroke the kitten still curled up on Tracey's stomach. "Yes, exactly. I could see that it hurt him to make such a request."  
  
"It did?" Tracey's dying anger was replaced by guilt. "Oh, and my little tirade didn't help much, either."  
  
"No, it didn't," Sandra confirmed. "You could write to him and apologize if you like."  
  
"I think I will," Tracey sat up, disturbing her pet. "Thanks, Mom."  
  
"You're welcome, Tracey."  
  
* * *  
  
Minerva looked up when Albus Dumbledore seated himself at the breakfast table the next morning. The sorrowful expression she'd seen upon his face when she'd left him to his thoughts the previous evening was gone. In its place was a peaceful expression that she had sorely missed the past few days. "Good morning, Albus."  
  
"It is a good morning, indeed, my dear," Albus told her, smiling gently. "I've received an owl that has greatly improved my spirits."  
  
She smiled and patted his hand. "I'm glad to hear it, Albus. Who was it from?"  
  
He glanced at the other teachers gathered around the table. None were paying attention to them. He leaned close. "From Tracey. She apologized for the way she acted yesterday."  
  
"That's wonderful news," Minerva replied, her smile widening. "I worried that she would be bitter."  
  
"As was I," he admitted as he turned to his breakfast. 


	7. To Hogwarts

7. To Hogwarts  
  
A/N: Here we are. I had to refer to GoF and SS a bit for this chapter and I enjoyed writing it, particularly the scenes with the Creevey brothers. Thanks to Filodea for the idea of having Tracey talk like a valley girl. *grin* I'd just finished watching The Two Towers when I wrote the first scene, so I kept hearing Sam instead of Albus. Heh. I edited this and the previous chapter because the original sequence of scenes at the end of the last chapter and the beginning of this one didn't quite seem right.  
  
Minerva attended the Quidditch World Cup and cheered until she was hoarse for Ireland. Rather than camp out, she chose to return to Hogwarts directly afterwards. As a result, she was not present during the chaos that reigned later that night. When she awoke the next morning, she found Albus waiting for her in her sitting room. "Albus, what are you doing here?"  
  
"I have some distressing news, my dear," he replied, standing and crossing to her. "I'm glad you left the game when you did."  
  
"What?" she took the copy of the Daily Prophet he held out and scanned the article. "Oh, no, this is not good at all."  
  
He shook his head, taking her in his arms. "No, it isn't."  
  
She clung to him, thankful that she had that privilege now. "History's repeating itself, Albus; first the disappearances, now this. What's next?"  
  
"I don't know," he replied, kissing the top of her head. "I just don't know."  
  
She blinked furiously to keep the tears at bay. "Should we call off the Triwizard Tournament?"  
  
"No, Minerva," his voice was firm as he eased her back enough so he could look into her eyes--her beautiful dark green eyes. "That would be giving in to the Dark. We must be strong. We must not let them win."  
  
"Who, Albus?" she asked, fighting a losing battle with the tears that wanted to spill down her cheeks. "Who are we fighting?"  
  
He pulled her close once more, his arms tight around her. "Those who would ruin everything that is good in this world, who are willing to kill someone just because their blood isn't 'pure'." He sighed, kissing the top of her head once more. "There's more to the Triwizard Tournament than three students competing for the glory of their school. It's a way to unite witches and wizards all over Europe. United we stand, divided we fall."  
  
"Albus." She pulled back, smiling in spite of the tears trickling down her cheeks. "That's what the Americans said."  
  
He smiled, wiping away the last of her tears. "They have a good point, my dear."  
  
She sighed, burrowing into his embrace once more. "That they do, Albus. That they do."  
  
"Mmm," he agreed, scooping her up and walking over to sit down in front of the fire. Rather than object, she nestled closer to him. This time he kissed her temple. "I love you, Minerva McGonagall."  
  
She tilted her head up to look at him. "I love you, too, Albus Dumbledore."  
  
He lowered his head to hers for a kiss that was more to reassure them that one thing would remain constant in their lives in the days to come: their love for each other.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey and Sandra were lost. They'd reached King's Cross Station just fine, but had no idea how to get on Platform 9¾. The rainy weather didn't help, either. Tracey was studying the barrier between platforms nine and ten and frowned when three teenagers, each with a trunk and accompanied by two owls in cages and a wicker basket that was hissing and spitting, leaned against the barrier, chatting amongst themselves. The bright blue eyes widened when the teenagers disappeared into the barrier. Tracey reached up and tugged on Sandra's sleeve. "Mom."  
  
"What is it, Tracey?" Sandra asked, bending her head to speak to her daughter.  
  
"I think I've figured out how to get on Platform 9¾," Tracey informed her mother, watching as a redheaded girl, two redheaded young men, and an older redheaded woman disappeared through the barrier.  
  
Sandra followed her daughter's gaze. "What, you mean the barrier?"  
  
Tracey nodded, leading Sandra over to it. "I saw two groups go through."  
  
"Watch where you're going," a teenaged boy with white blonde hair snapped as he strode past them, two hulking boys on either side of him. A tall man with long, white blonde hair followed in the boys' wake.  
  
Mother and daughter watched as the four of them disappeared one by one through the barrier. "I guess that's it, then. Shall we give it a try?"  
  
"Yes, Mom." Both of them pushing the trolley, they headed straight at the barrier. With a swishing sound, they passed right through it. Both stared with wide eyes at the hustling, bustling platform. A scarlet steam engine waited on the tracks, with 'Hogwarts Express' painted in gold letters on the side. "It's beautiful, Mom."  
  
Sandra nodded her agreement. "Yes, it is. Let's find you a seat now." In no time at all, they had stowed Tracey's luggage and settled her in a compartment towards the end of the train. "You be good, Tracey. Send me an owl when you get settled in, okay?"  
  
"Okay, Mom," Tracey agreed with a nod before hugging Sandra. "I love you."  
  
Sandra gladly returned the hug. "I love you, too, Tracey."  
  
Sandra left and Tracey settled into her seat, staring out her window at the rainy weather. She wasn't sure where she would be going, but it was bound to be interesting. "Excuse me, but is anyone sitting here?"  
  
Tracey smiled at the two small boys. "No, go ahead and have a seat." The two boys exchanged looks, but entered and sat down anyway. Upon closer inspection, it became obvious that the two were brothers. "I'm Tracey Cooper. What are your names?"  
  
"I'm Colin Creevey," the taller of the two replied. "This is my brother, Dennis."  
  
"I'm pleased to meet you," Tracey answered politely, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Did you grow up in the wizarding world?"  
  
Both shook their heads vigorously. "No, our dad's a milkman. We were so excited when Dennis got his letter this summer."  
  
"You already attend Hogwarts?" Tracey addressed this question to Colin.  
  
He nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, I do. I'm on my third year." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "There's a boy in the year above me who's very famous."  
  
"Oh?" Tracey raised an eyebrow in an unconscious imitation of her father. "What's his name and what did he do to become famous?"  
  
Colin glanced at the glass door of the compartment before replying. "His name is Harry Potter. He's the Boy Who Lived."  
  
"The Boy Who Lived?" Tracey repeated, curious. The boys nodded. "What's that mean?"  
  
Colin lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "There was a bad wizard, a long time ago, who wanted to take over the wizarding world. He killed Harry's parents, but, when he tried to kill Harry, the curse he used somehow was deflected and hit him instead. All that happened to Harry is that he has a scar shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead."  
  
Tracey considered that for a moment. "Does he ask for attention?"  
  
"What?" Colin and Dennis stared at her. "No, he doesn't _ask_ for attention."  
  
"Hmm." Tracey sat back in her seat, considering what she'd just been told.  
  
After a moment of silence, Dennis spoke up. "You talk funny."  
  
"I do?" Tracey asked, startled.  
  
Despite an elbow to the ribs, Dennis persisted. "Yeah, all fast and everything. As if there's a time limit on your sentences."  
  
"What if I, like, talked, like, this?" Tracey asked, grinning. "You know, like, a valley girl? Totally."  
  
Both boys stared at her. "That's scary."  
  
"I'm from California," Tracey told them by way of explanation. "I could just as well say that _you_ two talk funny. All British and everything."  
  
They exchanged a puzzled look. "But we _are_ British."  
  
"Yes," Tracey conceded, "but I'm not, so I'm bound to talk differently."  
  
They had the grace to look abashed. "Oh, er, good point."  
  
* * *  
  
Wearing her new Hogwarts robes, Tracey exited the train into a steady downpour. She was thoroughly soaked in seconds and wished she had an umbrella. "Firs' years this way!"  
  
"First years! That's us!" Dennis exclaimed, wriggling all over like an overexcited little puppy beside Tracey. "C'mon, Tracey!"  
  
As Dennis grabbed Tracey's hand, she glanced over her shoulder at Colin. "See you at the Feast, Dennis, Tracey!"  
  
"Bye, Colin!" Tracey called as she was towed over to a large man with lots of bristly black hair and a matching beard.  
  
She was unprepared to have him stoop down and look into her face. "Are yeh Tracey Cooper?"  
  
"Um, yes, uh, sir," she replied, unsure how to address him.  
  
He smiled behind his beard. "Not to worry. Professor Dumbledore just wanted ter make sure yeh got here alrigh'."  
  
A warm glow sprung up inside her at the thought of her father looking out for her. "Thanks, uh, what's your name?"  
  
"No time now, but take care," he patted her shoulder with one huge hand, nearly sending her to her knees. "Firs' years! Follow me!"  
  
Stumbling and slipping on the wet path, they followed the lantern he was carrying. It was little more than a wet blur in the rain. "Tracey?"  
  
"Right here, Dennis," she replied, wishing her cloak shed rain rather than absorbed it. "You okay?"  
  
"Never better!" he chirped, sounding almost painfully excited. "Any idea which House you're going to be in?"  
  
House? "Um, no, haven't really thought about it. What House is Colin in?"  
  
"Gryffindor," Dennis told her eagerly. "I'm hoping I'll be in Gryffindor, too."  
  
Tracey made a noncommittal sound, wondering what Dennis meant by Houses. Before she could ponder for very long, they reached a lake where a fleet of small boats waited. "No more 'n four to a boat!"  
  
Tracey and Dennis climbed into one, along with another boy and girl. Tracey huddled in the bottom of the boat, wishing they were at their destination already. Dennis, however, leaned over the edge of the boat, as if he was trying to peer into the water. About halfway through the journey, he toppled right into the water. "Dennis!"  
  
Before Tracey could try to dive in and save him, a long, rubbery tentacle plopped Dennis back in the boat. He was no more soaked than he had been before. "Wow! That was so cool!"  
  
"Are you okay?" Tracey asked him, concerned.  
  
He nodded vigorously. "That was brilliant!"  
  
"Don't do it again, please," Tracey requested. "I thought you were a goner for sure."  
  
"Goner?" he asked, puzzled.  
  
"Um, dead," Tracey clarified.  
  
He blinked. "Oh."  
  
They didn't say anything more for the rest of the boat ride, but Dennis _did_ stay inside the boat, contenting himself with trying to see something through the curtain of rain. "Heads down!" Tracey and Dennis didn't really need to duck; they were the two smallest first years. It was a relief to get out of the rain at last as the boats slid through a curtain of ivy and into a dark tunnel. Tracey pushed her wet hair back from her face as they glided along and looked around as they reached an underground harbor of sorts and everyone climbed out. "Yeh alrigh' there?" the large man asked, pulling his moleskin overcoat off as he walked over to Tracey and Dennis.  
  
"Are you Hagrid?" Dennis asked as he draped the overcoat around himself. "Colin's mentioned you."  
  
"Yes, I'm Hagrid, let's go." He turned and led them through a passageway in the rock. Tracey sighed in resignation as they went back out into the rain, this time standing on a smooth flat expanse of grass in the shadow of a castle, presumably Hogwarts itself. Slipping and sliding on the wet grass, the first years straggled after Hagrid as he walked to a set of wide stone steps and up them to a set of huge oak doors. He glanced back as they clustered close behind him. "All here?" Raising his huge fist, he knocked three times on the doors. 


	8. The Sorting

8. The Sorting  
  
A/N: This was particularly difficult for me because so much came from GoF, but I wanted it to be unique at the same time. *sigh* We shall see.  
  
Raising his huge fist, Hagrid knocked three times on the doors. They swung open to reveal Professor McGonagall, wearing her best emerald green robes. Tracey grinned as Hagrid said, "The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."  
  
"Thank you, Hagrid." Professor McGonagall's voice still had the slight Scottish burr in it, but it was crisper now, sterner. "I will take them from here."  
  
She opened the door wider and Tracey gladly shuffled into the entrance hall with the rest of the first years. It was nice to come in out of the rain at last. As she tried, in vain, to squeeze the excess water from her thick auburn hair, Tracey looked around, her bright blue eyes widening with awe. The house in California that she'd grown up in could have easily fit in the entrance hall alone. "Come on, Tracey."  
  
She hurried to catch up with the rest of her year-mates as they filed into a small chamber off the entrance hall, her soaked socks squishing in her waterlogged shoes. She shivered, thinking longingly of her favorite pair of jeans. Whose bright idea was it to put girls in skirts, anyway?  
  
Professor McGonagall's voice distracted Tracey from her thoughts as the girl stood shoulder to shoulder with Dennis. "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts." Tracey couldn't help grinning a little at that. Dennis and Colin hoped that Dennis would be Sorted into Gryffindor. Tracey only hoped that her father would be proud of her, no matter which House she ended up in. "You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room." That didn't sound so bad. She'd had to share her room with Lynda for the past four years. At least her roommates would be her age. Tracey listened to the rest of the speech intently and wondered how the four Houses differed from each other. "The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."  
  
Tracey couldn't help rolling her eyes as the professor left. They were all soaked and wouldn't be drying off any time soon. However, she did her best to wring out her hair, wondering why she'd let it grow out in the first place. "Any idea how they Sort us, Dennis?"  
  
"Colin said something about a hat," the small boy replied, looking as if he was wearing a furry black circus tent. "I'm not exactly sure, though."  
  
Tracey sighed and shook her head, giving up on her hair. She gave a small shriek just then because ghosts had popped out of the wall just in front of her. A fat, roly-poly ghost said, "We really should give him a chance."  
  
"No," the ghost who replied was gaunt and covered with silver bloodstains. "He would only--"  
  
He abruptly stopped speaking when he spotted the students. "Hello," a mournful-looking female ghost greeted them. Tracey waved at her. "About to be Sorted, I expect."  
  
"Yeah." Tracey nodded, liking the ghost.  
  
The fat ghost, who looked like a friar, actually, beamed at the students. "I hope you end up my House, then. Hufflepuff, it was."  
  
"Move along now," Professor McGonagall's brisk voice announced her return. "The Sorting is about to begin." The ghosts disappeared through the other wall. She turned to the students. "Form a line and follow me."  
  
With Dennis walking along behind her, Tracey followed Professor McGonagall, wondering how a hat could Sort students. Upon entering the Great Hall, however, that thought was wiped away. It was huge and magnificent. Hundreds of candles floated in mid-air, glittering on golden plates and flatware. The older students were seated at four long tables, looking only slightly drier than Tracey and her peers. To distract herself from all the eyes gazing at her as she followed Professor McGonagall down the length of the Hall between two of the long tables, Tracey looked up and gasped. It was as if there wasn't a ceiling, that the hall was open to the sky above. She was puzzled, though, because no rain was falling, despite the swirling black and purple clouds. "It's not real, Tracey."  
  
"What?" She glanced over her shoulder at Dennis, who was looking almost painfully excited. "What do you mean?"  
  
He opened his mouth to explain, but they had reached the front of the room, across which sat the staff table. Tracey spotted her father seated in a chair shaped like a golden throne and caught his eye for a brief moment before turning to face the rest of the students. She stared as Professor McGonagall set a four-legged stool in front of the first year students, most of whom were shivering, and placed a ragged wizard's hat on top of the stool. After a moment of utter silence, a rip near the brim of the hat open wide and the hat began to sing! She listened to the song in awe and applauded with the rest of the students when the Hat had finished. So _that's_ how a hat Sorted students! Professor McGonagall stepped forward, unrolling a large scroll of parchment. "When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool. When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table."  
  
Tracey nodded to herself. That didn't sound so bad. She wondered which House she would end up in. She didn't hunger for power, like Slytherin. She'd always worked hard in school, though, and had gotten pretty good grades. As for being brave, well, her shivers weren't just because of the cold, though she tried not to show how nervous she was. "Cooper, Tracey!"  
  
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the line and walked over to the stool. After she'd sat down, Professor McGonagall set the hat on Tracey's head, which slipped all the way to her shoulders. She very nearly jumped when a small voice spoke in her ear, "Oh, my. You're going to be difficult to place. The intelligence and thirst for knowledge of Ravenclaw, the loyalty and work ethic of Hufflepuff, the ambition and cunning of Slytherin, and the bravery and honor of Gryffindor. Where shall I put you?"  
  
_I thought Slytherins were power hungry,_ Tracey unconsciously replied.  
  
"They can be," the Hat replied, "but not all of them are."  
  
_Oh._ That had surprised her. _I'd like to go to whichever House will make Father proud of me._  
  
The Hat was silent for a long moment. "Even if he had not been Sorted into that House?"  
  
She considered that for a moment. _Yes, even if it's not my House._  
  
"No need to worry." Did the Hat just chuckle? "He, too, was in GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
The last word was shouted to the entire Hall and the Gryffindor table exploded with cheers as Minerva removed the hat. "Well done, Miss Cooper," Professor McGonagall murmured as Tracey stood.  
  
Casting a fleeting smile at the Deputy Headmistress, Tracey scurried to the table on the far left, where Colin greeted her with a hearty handshake. "Way to go, Tracey! Let's hope Dennis ends up in Gryffindor, too."  
  
"Creevey, Dennis!" Tracey looked beyond Dennis as he staggered to the stool at her father. He was looking right back at her! When their eyes met, he winked and smiled.  
  
Tracey grinned back, but was distracted when the Hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
Beside her, Colin whooped and applauded loudly as Dennis, grinning broadly, took off the hat, put it back on the stool and practically ran over to sit between his brother and Tracey. "Colin, I fell in! It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!"  
  
"Cool!" Colin sounded just as excited as Dennis. "It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"  
  
"_Wow!_" Dennis exclaimed, sounding impressed.  
  
Tracey rolled her eyes and turned to watch the rest of the Sorting as Colin pointed Harry Potter out to his brother. Now that her nerves had had a chance to settle down, she realized she was very hungry and glanced longingly at the empty plate in front of her. Finally, finally, the Sorting was over and Albus got to his feet to address the students. Arms open wide in welcome; he beamed around at the students. "I have only two words to say to you: tuck in."  
  
"Hear, hear!" Two boys several seats down the table from Tracey cried as the empty dishes filled with the most delicious-looking food Tracey had ever seen. A glance in the boys' direction told her that they were the two she'd seen go through the barrier first, the girl who'd been with them sitting across the table from them.  
  
Her stomach rumbling loudly, Tracey scooped food on her plate and tucked in with a will. Some of the dishes looked a little strange to her, but Colin and Dennis were nice enough to explain them to her. She even tried one and discovered it was actually quite delicious. As the main courses gave way to desserts, the conversation moved on to the matter of parentage. When everyone else had stated his or hers, Dennis turned to his companion, "What about you, Tracey?"  
  
"Um." Tracey hesitated, wondering what she should say. "Well, I grew up with my mom and stepfather. Both are Muggles."  
  
Glances were exchanged amongst the first-years. A majority of them were from the wizarding world, where single parents and stepparents were still rare. The few who were Muggle-born or had interacted with the Muggle world were sympathetic. "What about your real father? Do you know if he was a wizard?"  
  
"Mom told me he's a wizard," Tracey admitted truthfully, "but I don't know that much about him." That was true, too. Despite having spent most of the summer with her father, she still knew so little about him.  
  
Conversation subsided as everyone absorbed themselves in their dessert of choice. Tracey's happened to be a lemon meringue pie that was quite tasty. Glancing up at the High Table, she noticed that a large slice of the same pie sat in front of her father, as well as a slice of chocolate silk pie. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to her dessert.  
  
At long last, the desserts faded and Albus stood to address the students. He said something about magical items that were forbidden inside the castle, that the forest on the grounds was forbidden to students, as was Hogsmeade to students below the third year. What caused the most reactions among the student body was, "It is also my most painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year." Despite the gasps and mutterings that arose around the hall, Albus pressed on. "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy- -but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts--"  
  
He was interrupted, however, when a rumble of thunder coincided with the doors of the Great Hall banging open. A man shrouded in a black traveling cloak and leaning on a long staff stood in the doorway. As lighting forked across the enchanted ceiling, the man lowered his hood, shook out a mass of long grizzled dark gray hair, and began the walk up towards the High Table. With every other step, a dull 'clunk' echoed through the Hall. Reaching the end of the High Table, he turned right and limped towards Albus. Another flash of lightning caused several people around Tracey to gasp. It had revealed the man's face and it seemed, to Tracey, that someone had carved a vaguely human face in an apple, and then left it out in the sun to whither and dry out. Scars criss-crossed every inch of skin, the mouth looked more like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk was missing from his nose.  
  
One eye was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round, and a vibrant, electric blue. This eye was moving ceaselessly, unblinkingly, and quite independently from the other. Tracey couldn't help staring at the stranger, fascinated. He finally reached Albus and extended a badly-scarred hand. After exchanging a few words, Albus gestured to the empty seat on his right side. The man sat and began to eat. Albus broke into the silence that had descended on the Great Hall, "May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Professor Moody." Tracey started to clap, but stopped when the only other ones who did were Albus and Hagrid and they stopped quickly. After a few moments of silence, Albus cleared his throat. "As I was saying, we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year." 


	9. Rocky Start

9. Rocky Start  
  
A/N: For those of you wondering why the Hat asked 'Even if he had not been Sorted into that House?' It was a test of sorts for her. It was already leaning towards putting her in Gryffindor, but it wanted to be sure and that question cinched it. If you're still puzzled, let me know and I'll try to explain it better. Gah! While combing through GoF in preparation for the next Minerva POV fic, I realized I had missed someone who'd been Sorted into Gryffindor. So, to fix it, Danielle Miller is now Natalie McDonald. Sorry Silvie.  
  
"It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year," Albus announced, smiling.  
  
"You're JOKING!" A redhead further down the table answered rather loudly.  
  
This caused most of the people present to laugh and Albus himself chuckled. "I am _not_ joking, Mr. Weasley, though now that you mention it, I did hear a good one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar..." Minerva cleared her throat loudly, stopping Albus. "Er-- but maybe this is not the time..." he glanced at her and Tracey saw her shake her head ever so slightly "...no...where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament...well, some of you will not know what the tournament involves, so I hope those who _do_ know will forgive me for giving a brief explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely."  
  
Tracey listened raptly as her father explained the Triwizard Tournament. Sitting beside her, Dennis whispered, "I wonder if I could compete."  
  
"Dennis, we haven't even learned anything yet," Tracey reminded him. "Why would the judge even consider us?"  
  
"Just an idea," he muttered, sounding hurt.  
  
Tracey was on the point of apologizing when her father explained that only students who were seventeen or old would be allowed to compete. Although Tracey herself was relieved that her two new friends would be safe, but there was mutinous muttering all around her, indicating that her fellow students weren't happy with this news. "This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them."  
  
"That's logical," Tracey murmured, aware that the mutinous mutterings hadn't abated.  
  
After telling them when the delegations from Beuxbatons and Durmstrang would arrive, Albus sent them to bed, "I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"  
  
"C'mon, Dennis, Tracey!" Colin jumped up from his seat and led them across the Great Hall and up to Gryffindor Tower.  
  
When Tracey arrived in the first-year girls' dorm, she found three other girls waiting for her. "Hi, I'm Annie Sanders!" the dark-haired girl smiled at Tracey, gray eyes kind.  
  
"And I'm Lynne Jones," the brunette's smile wasn't as broad as Annie's, but her brown eyes were warm and friendly.  
  
The last girl cheerfully shook Tracey's hand, hazel eyes sparkling with good humor and strawberry blonde hair bouncing around her slender shoulders. "I'm Natalie McDonald."  
  
"I'm pleased to meet all of you, but I'm a little tired." Tracey told them apologetically, pushing her auburn hair back from her face.  
  
Annie waved it off. "Oh, that's alright. We'll get to know each other later."  
  
"Thanks, Annie," Tracey grinned before getting ready for bed. A loud meow startled her when she laid down on the bed. "Oh! Sorry, Jestana. Didn't know you were there."  
  
The kitten made a disgruntled 'brrt' sound before stalking to the foot of the bed and curling up there. Smiling to herself, Tracey pulled the crimson curtains closed and settled down to sleep.  
  
* * *  
  
Minerva was seated at her vanity table, brushing her hair out when someone knocked on the door. She rose and entered the sitting room, brush in hand, before calling out, "Come in!"  
  
"Good evening, my dear," Albus greeted her upon entering, closing the door behind him.  
  
She smiled. "Good evening, Albus."  
  
"Just getting ready for bed?" he inquired politely, noticing her brush.  
  
She nodded, smiling slightly. "Yes, I was, actually."  
  
"Would you like some assistance?" he asked, moving closer to her.  
  
Her smile widened and she handed the silver-backed brush to him. "Yes, please."  
  
They moved into the bedroom and she resumed her seat at the vanity table. Standing behind her, he began to brush her hair with long, smooth strokes. She sighed and relaxed under his deft touch. Brushing her hair had always been tedious when she was the one doing the brushing. When it was her mother, however, it had always calmed her. With Albus moving the brush through the ebony strands, though, it had an entirely different effect on her that was not unpleasant. "My dear, are you purring?"  
  
"Hmm?" She blinked and raised her eyes to the mirror. Albus was watching her, bright blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, I suppose I am."  
  
He chuckled, still brushing her hair. "That's the first time I've heard you purr as a human."  
  
"It must be the effect you have on me, Albus," she countered with a smile, meeting his eyes in the mirror.  
  
He leaned over her shoulder to set the brush on the vanity table and she caught a whiff of his scent--chocolate and lemon drops--before he straightened up and began to braid her sable hair. His long, thin fingers moved easily through the raven-dark strands, never once tugging them or hurting her. Upon finishing the braid, she silently held up the red and gold hair ribbon she'd intended to us. He brought her hand up to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of it before taking the hair ribbon and tying it at the end of her braid. He rested his hands on her shoulders. "There you are, my dear."  
  
"Thank you, Albus." She covered his hands with her own. "I'm sure you didn't come here to help me with my hair, though."  
  
He chuckled quietly and she watched in the mirror as he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "You are correct, Tabby, as usual."  
  
"So have a seat and tell me why you are here," she suggested, scooting over on the vanity bench.  
  
He did just that, sitting down beside her on the vanity bench. Before saying anything, however, he drew her into his arms and kissed her warmly. "There, that's better."  
  
"Yes, it is," she replied, her smile returning as she traced the outline of his long, crooked nose with the tip of one finger, and then tapping the end with said finger. "Now, why are you here, Albus?"  
  
He captured her hand and kissed the palm. "I'm worried about Tracey."  
  
"Tracey?" she asked, surprised. He nodded, the twinkle gone from his eyes. "Why? She's in Gryffindor, so I'll be able to keep an eye on her."  
  
He sighed, looking troubled. "I hadn't realized just how small she is until I saw her with Dennis Creevey. What if she gets picked on for it? Or teased because of her accent? Or--"  
  
He was interrupted by her mouth upon his. After several heartbeats, she pulled away. "Albus, you're being a father."  
  
"I am?" He blinked owlishly at her.  
  
She nodded, her smile returning. "Yes, you are. She'll be fine. Trust me."  
  
"I do trust you, Tabby," he replied, the worry fading from his face to leave behind an expression she couldn't quite read. "Which brings us to the other reason I came here."  
  
She stared as he slid from the bench and onto one knee. "Albus? What are you doing?"  
  
"Minerva, we have wasted so much time already and the future is uncertain." He pulled a box from his pocket and opened it to reveal the diamond ring inside, with smaller rubies on either side of the diamond. She gasped as the firelight glinted on the diamond and rubies. "I would rather face that future as husband and wife. Will you marry me?"  
  
* * *  
  
When Lynne entered the dorm room to gather her books so she could do homework, she was surprised to hear a loud sniff. Looking around, she spotted someone sprawled on the bed furthest from the door. Carefully setting her books on her bed, the closest to the door, she crept towards the other person. When she saw the auburn hair, she could have kicked herself. Of course it was Tracey! The girl had picked the furthest bed because it provided the most privacy. Lynne came to a stop at the foot of the bed. Tracey had her face buried in the pillow, auburn hair fanned out over her back, pillow, and covers. "Tracey?"  
  
"Go ahead, make fun of my accent," Tracey's voice was muffled and scratchy. "Call me shrimpy and silly and whatever else you can think of."  
  
Lynne moved around to sit on the edge of the bed. "Why would I do that? I think your accent is interesting and I don't care how tall you are."  
  
"Sure," Tracey sniffed skeptically, "Everyone else seems to think my accent's odd and find it amusing to practically knock me over, and then say they hadn't seen me."  
  
The taller girl placed her hand on Tracey's back, but she jerked violently, dislodging Lynne's hand. "C'mon, Trace. You should have known that there would be bullies here in the wizarding world, too."  
  
"Lynne, just shut up!" Tracey shot up and turned on the bed in one fluid motion. Her face was blotchy and tear-stained, and her eyes, though red and puffy from her tears, were blazing with anger. "People have been poking fun at me all day and I just want to be left alone!"  
  
Stung, Lynne stood up. "Fine. I'll leave you alone for now, but please try to remember that I want to be your friend. All three of us do."  
  
"Just go!" Tracey scrambled from the bed and began pushing Lynne towards the door. "Go and leave me alone!"  
  
Lynne gathered up her books and left the room with her head held high. When the door slammed shut behind her, she shook her head and returned to the common room.  
  
* * *  
  
A knock disturbed Minerva as she marked quizzes from the first day of classes. She didn't even look up from them as she called, "Come in!"  
  
"Professor?" the quiet voice was preceded by the creak of the door opening.  
  
Minerva looked up from her marking to see one of her new young lions peeping around the door. Her name was Lynne Jones if her memory served. "Yes, Miss Jones?"  
  
The first-year slipped fully into the office and closed the door behind her before approaching Minerva's desk. "Professor, er, this is hard, but Tracey Cooper--"  
  
"Miss Cooper?" Minerva straightened up and her gaze sharpened at that. "What about her, Miss Jones?"  
  
Lynne looked down at the hands she was twisting together in front of her. "She said she's been teased all day today and just wants to be alone, but-- "  
  
"Say no more, Miss Jones," Minerva stopped the girl with an upraised hand before rising from her seat. "I shall take care of her."  
  
Lynne looked relieved. "Thank you, Professor."  
  
"Thank _you_, Miss Jones," Minerva paused to rest a hand on the girl's shoulder before hurrying out of her office. 


	10. More Discussions

10. More Discussions  
  
A/N: Only one person asked what Minerva's response to Albus' question was! C'mon, wasn't anyone else curious? Anyway, Minerva comforts Tracey, who writes a long letter to her family.  
  
The Gryffindors didn't notice the sleek silver tabby slipping through the common room and up the staircase to the girls' dormitories. Upon reaching the landing outside the first years' dorm, the silver tabby became none other than Minerva McGonagall, the Head of Gryffindor. Without bothering to knock, she opened the door to the dormitory and slipped inside. Sitting on the bed furthest from the door was Tracey Cooper, holding her pillow to her, staring blankly at nothing in particular. When the door closed behind Minerva with a quiet 'snick', Tracey looked up, ready to yell at the intruder, but it died in her throat when she saw whom her visitor was. "Professor McGonagall."  
  
"Hello, Miss Cooper." Minerva crossed to the girl's bed and stood looking down at her. "Miss Jones indicated that you have been teased quite a bit today?"  
  
The girl rolled her eyes, her hands clenching in the pillow she still held. "Yes. Everywhere I went today, I was teased about _something_. Either my size or my accent."  
  
Minerva nodded, remembering her first year at Hogwarts. "Who teased you?"  
  
"Slytherins, mostly," Tracey admitted, dropping her gaze to the bed, "although a couple Ravenclaws decided to tease me, too."  
  
Minerva looked around. "Where's your cat?"  
  
"I, um, kinda kicked her out of here." Tracey's face was red with embarrassment now. "I just didn't want her to bother me."  
  
Minerva nodded, looking thoughtful. "Well, part of the purpose of you bringing a pet is for you to have someone to comfort you, even when there's no one around."  
  
"I understand, Professor, but I forgot to mention that I tend to get pretty nasty when I'm upset," Tracey informed Minerva with an apologetic smile.  
  
Minerva reached out and squeezed the girl's shoulder. "That's quite alright, Miss Cooper. Everyone has their own way of dealing with anger. Just try not to take it out on your fellow students."  
  
"I hope Lynne's not too mad at me for yelling at her," Tracey murmured, picking at her pillow now. "She's really nice. They all are, actually."  
  
Minerva smiled, her hand still resting on Tracey's shoulder. "Cultivate a friendship with them, Tracey. Their friendship will help you against the teasing."  
  
"Were _you_ teased, Professor?" Tracey asked, looking up at Minerva curiously. "When you were a student?"  
  
Minerva nodded, her smile bittersweet. "If it hadn't been for my friends, I don't know what I would have done."  
  
"What would people tease you about, Professor?" Tracey's bright blue eyes were wide with curiosity. "I can't imagine anyone daring to tease you."  
  
Minerva chuckled softly. "Believe it or not, I had a rather thick accent when I started at Hogwarts. I was teased mercilessly for it. I wasn't much to look at, either, when I started. I was thin and gangly, always tripping over my feet."  
  
"I can't imagine that," Tracey objected. "You must have been gorgeous when you were younger." After a moment, Tracey hastily added, "Not that you aren't gorgeous right now."  
  
Minerva smiled, amused by the girl's discomfort. "It is quite alright, Miss Cooper."  
  
"Am I Tracey or Miss Cooper?" Tracey asked with a frown.  
  
Puzzled, Minerva asked, "What do you mean?"  
  
"You've called me 'Miss Cooper' _and_ 'Tracey' during our talk," Tracey pointed out. "Are you here as my professor or as a mother?"  
  
Minerva couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her. "A good point, but you can't have two mothers."  
  
"Why not?" Tracey questioned, her head cocked to the side curiously. "I have two fathers: Ryan and, uh..." her voice faltered as she couldn't decide how to refer to Albus.  
  
Minerva blinked, surprised by the logic of the girl, and the implications of what Tracey had said. "That is a good point."  
  
"What?" Now Tracey was puzzled.  
  
Pulling her wand out of her pocket, Minerva tapped the invisible ring on her left hand and showed it to Tracey. "You _are_ going to have two mothers."  
  
"I am?" Tracey examined the ring, a grin spreading across her face. "Awesome!"  
  
Both of them laughed, but Minerva sobered as she made the ring invisible once more. "I must ask, however, that you keep this news to yourself, Tracey."  
  
"Why?" Tracey's eyes were innocent and curious.  
  
Minerva's smile was sad this time as she contemplated the carefree nature of childhood. "There are uncertain times ahead and Albus is a powerful wizard, with many enemies. Those same enemies would attack Albus in any way they can, including through those he cares about."  
  
"You," Tracey stated, realization dawning, "and me."  
  
Minerva nodded, "Yes, and possibly Sandra."  
  
"He wants to protect from that possibility," Tracey added, fully understanding the implications of what her father had requested of her. "From the enemies who would attack him."  
  
Minerva brushed a strand of auburn hair back from Tracey's face. "You're very perceptive, Tracey. The fewer people who know who your real father is, the better."  
  
"I understand, Professor." Tracey's smile was strained.  
  
Minerva held up a finger. "Do not let it keep you from enjoying life, however. Do not let the dread of what may come overshadow the joy of the moment."  
  
"Yes, Professor." Tracey's smile was more natural this time. "Um, may I come to you or the Headmaster if things get to be too much?"  
  
Minerva smiled and nodded. "Of course."  
  
* * *  
  
_Dear Mom and Dad,  
  
I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write, but I've been busy getting settled in my classes and all. They're really fascinating, but the ones I enjoy the most are Potions and Transfiguration. Potions is kind of like chemistry, but the teacher is kinda mean. He's the Head of Slytherin, one of the Houses, and favors them over any other House, especially Gryffindor (my House). Maybe I should go back and explain about Houses.  
  
There are four Houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin, each named for one of founders of Hogwarts (I only know their last names). At the beginning of the year, the new students are Sorted into these four Houses by this magical hat that once belonged to Gryffindor. We're Sorted depending on the kind of person we are. Gryffindors are brave and noble, Ravenclaws are smart and wise, Hufflepuffs are loyal and hardworking, and Slytherins are ambitious and cunning. There's a teacher in charge of each House, called a Head. Professor McGonagall (she teaches Transfiguration) is the Head of Gryffindor, Professor Snape is the Head of Slytherin, Professor Flitwick (he teaches Charms) is the Head of Ravenclaw, and Professor Sprout (she teaches Herbology) is the Head of Hufflepuff. Anyway, I ended up in Gryffindor, along with three other girls and four boys. I sleep in a dormitory with the girls and attend classes with the other seven.  
  
Speaking of classes, they are just awesome! I know, I know, I use that for everything, but what else is there for me to say? Anyway, Transfiguration is basically turning one object into another. The first thing we tried was turning a matchstick into a needle. All I managed to do was make it look as if it'd been dipped in liquid silver. Oh, well. Dennis Creevey (one of the boys who'd been Sorted into Gryffindor, about the same size as me) said his brother, Colin, said that Transfiguration is really hard. The trick, to me, seems to be visualizing what I want the object to turn _into_. At least, when I tried it that way, I got better results. Potions, as I said, is like magical chemistry. Some of the effects from doing something wrong are pretty interesting, but Snape definitely favors his House over the others. I answered two questions right and he didn't even bother to give me points for it! (By points, I mean House Points. Teachers award them to students for answering questions correctly or something along those lines and take them away for rule-breaking) Charms is kind of fun because Professor Flitwick is so small that he has to stand on a stack of books to see over the desk. He's shorter than me! Charms is probably what most people think of when they think of magic. Generally speaking, charms enchant objects to behave in a way that isn't at all normal for that particular object. Dennis told me that there's a spell that makes objects fly. Isn't that cool? See, didn't use awesome this time! Herbology is like botany in a way. We study magical plants and fungi and they're loads of fun! Dennis told me that there's this one plant called a Mandrake that basically looks like a baby with leaves growing out of its head! When I asked him for more information, though, he changed the subject.  
  
Oh! More subjects! We're also supposed to take History of Magic and it's taught by a ghost! His name is Professor Binns and it's really boring. He has this monotonous voice that just drones on and on and on! If I wasn't so keen on learning all I can about magical history, I'd go right to sleep! Most of the class does anyway, even Dennis and I should think he'd want to know about it, too, being a Muggle-born! Both his parents are Muggles. His dad's a milkman. I don't know where they live, though. There's also Defense Against the Dark Arts. From what Dennis has said, this is their fourth Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in the last four years! He said that Colin really liked their last one, a Professor Lupin, but Snape "accidentally" told the Slytherins that Lupin was a werewolf. Of course, the news spread like wildfire, so Lupin resigned to avoid having indignant parents write and complain about him. Anyway, Professor Moody is kind of scary. I can't even begin to describe him, but he has a wooden leg (not a peg one, it's got a clawed foot), and this really weird fake eye that swivels around his eye socket. It can see through things because Dennis was showing me some pictures Colin had taken and Moody told him to put them away. They were hidden by the desk! How else could Moody have seen them?  
  
We eat our meals in the Great Hall, which is HUGE! There are four long tables running lengthwise down it, where the four Houses sit to eat, and another one on a raised platform that runs across the Hall, where the staff sits to eat. The Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, sits right in the middle with Professor McGonagall to the right of him. Where the other professors sit changes from time to time, but Professor McGonagall always sits to Professor Dumbledore's right. The ceiling is awesome, too! It was enchanted to reflect whatever weather we're having. During the Sorting, it was covered with these angry-looking purple and black clouds, because it was a dark and stormy night (always wanted to use that phrase!), and lighting would flash across it, right when a rumble of thunder boomed outside!  
  
Oh! Hogwarts is going to be hosting something called a Triwizard Tournament this year! It's a competition between the three major wizarding schools in Europe: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion will be selected to represent each school and the three champions will compete in three magical tasks in order to win the Triwizard Cup and a thousand Galleons personal prize money. Dennis considered entering, but only students who are seventeen or older may compete. The reason Professor Dumbledore gave for this requirement, which is apparently a new one, is that the tasks will be difficult and dangerous. Most of the students seemed upset by that, but I think it's a logical necessity. The Heads of the other two schools will be arriving with their contenders sometime next month and the champions will be selected on Halloween by an impartial judge. I suppose the students who aren't selected will be staying at Hogwarts to watch their champion compete.  
  
Wow, it's getting late. I'd better end this now. I suppose I'll have to tell you about my fellow Gryffindors in my next letter. I love you all!  
  
Tracey._ 


	11. Triwizard Tournament

11. Triwizard Tournament  
  
A/N: Here we are. Sorry it took me so long. I originally intended to included ALL of the start of the tournament, but decided it would be too much and cut it down a LOT. Anyway, the last scene was written when I was feeling particularly icky and I wrote the end of the scene before to coincide with it. So, yus, here you are!  
  
Tracey was soon caught up in the hustle and bustle of life at Hogwarts. She attended classes with Annie, Lynne, and Natalie, as well as the four Gryffindor boys in their year: Dennis, Jason Eckert, Tyrone Lawrence, and Andrew Wilson. She was still teased, but she ignored it as well as she could. Her friendship with the other girls helped in that respect. If she hadn't cultivated that friendship, she would have become a little black cloud of gloom floating through the corridors of the castle.  
  
She quickly became absorbed in her studies, finding much of it interesting. She was particularly good at Potions and Transfiguration, but did fairly well in all her subjects. Despite all the homework she was assigned, she always managed to find time to write home once a week, sending owls full of news about life at Hogwarts. She never had time to write all she wanted and promised more in the next one, only to find even more to write about.  
  
One aspect of her studies was not going well for her: flying lessons. She liked Madam Hooch, really, she did, but she was afraid of heights. Flying across the United States, and then the Atlantic, had been relatively painless because she'd been in a plane and could only tell she was flying if she looked out the window (which she hadn't). Flying on a broomstick was something else altogether, and she was teased about that as well. Madam Hooch seemed to understand Tracey's problem and didn't push the girl, for which she was grateful.  
  
September turned slowly into October, bringing chilly weather with it. Tracey, having grown up in southern California, was not used to the cold, wet climate and often wished she could wear jeans instead of skirts. At least the boys could wear trousers. When the arrival of the Beaubaxtons and Durmstrang delegations was announced, including the fact that they would be required to await their arrival, Tracey's comment was, "Great. We get to stand outside in the cold and freeze our buns off while we wait for them to arrive."  
  
This comment had caused the other three girls to laugh, but they obediently trooped down to the entrance hall after classes on the thirtieth, wearing their best cloaks. Tracey had fallen into the habit of pulling the sides of her hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of her way. For the arrival of the foreign students, she braided the ponytail. As she stood between Dennis and Annie, Tracey started shivering long before the others did. "I hate standing out in the cold."  
  
Her father's voice rang out before either of her friends could reply. "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"  
  
"Where?" exclaimed many of the students behind Tracey.  
  
She looked around wildly, trying desperately to spot it. "_There!_"  
  
"It's a dragon!" she shrieked, spotting a huge black shape hurtling across the sky, growing larger as it approached.  
  
Dennis elbowed her. "Don't be stupid...it's a flying house!"  
  
"No need to be mean about it," Tracey muttered to him as the black shape drew even closer.  
  
Finally, the lights from the castle revealed the black shape to be a powder- blue horse-drawn carriage, roughly the size of a large house, pulled by a dozen winged palomino horses the size of elephants. Tracey stared as the carriage landed in front of the students. The door of the carriage-- containing a picture of two crossed golden wands, with three stars emitting from each--opened and a boy in pale blue robes jumped out. He unfolded a set of golden steps and sprang back respectfully. Tracey gasped when a woman the same size as Hagrid, the groundskeeper, emerged from the carriage. She was rather handsome, with olive skin, large black eyes, and a sort of beaky nose. Her dark hair had been drawn into an elegant knob at the base of her neck and she wore robes of black satin, with opals gleaming at her throat and on her fingers. Tracey quickly followed her father's lead and clapped. "Wow, I've never seen horses that big before."  
  
"Neither have I," Lynne whispered back as Albus welcomed the woman--Madam Maxime--to Hogwarts.  
  
They listened quietly to the conversation between Albus and Madam Maxime and moved aside so Madam Maxime and her students could go into the castle to warm up. "D'you think Durmstrang'll come in a flying carriage, too?"  
  
"Well, don't you think they'd want to be unique?" Tracey asked Dennis, who was looking up at the sky hopefully. "Though I don't know how else they could come. Do you, Lynne?"  
  
The other girl shook her head. "I have no idea."  
  
"Guess we'll have to wait and see, then," Tracey commented.  
  
After a few minutes, a loud, eerie sort of sound drifted towards the gathered students and teachers. It reminded Tracey of a huge vacuum cleaner moving along the bottom of a river or--"The lake!" an older student yelled. "Look at the lake!"  
  
"Awesome," Tracey whispered as a ship rose up out of the middle of a whirlpool that had appeared in the lake. When it emerged fully, the ghostly, skeletal look of the ship sent shivers up and down Tracey's spine.  
  
The people who disembarked from the ship appeared to be built like linebackers, but the light streaming onto the grounds from the entrance revealed that their cloaks were made of some kind of fur that made Tracey envious. She was past shivering now. The man in the lead was wearing different furs from the others: sleek and silver, like his hair. "Dumbledore! How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"  
  
"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Albus replied calmly.  
  
As Albus and Karkaroff spoke together, Tracey glanced at Minerva. The look on the Transfiguration professor's face was that of annoyance and extreme dislike. When one Durmstrang student in particular came into the light, Tracey noticed an extraordinary change come over many of the students. They became excited and elbowed their neighbors. As she filed back into the castle with the other students, Tracey asked Lynne, "What's so special about that Viktor guy?"  
  
"He's Viktor Krum," Lynne explained as they crossed the entrance hall. "He was the Seeker for the Bulgarian team at the Quidditch World Cup. He caught the Snitch, but Bulgaria still lost."  
  
Tracey frowned, puzzled. "What's so special about that?"  
  
"Don't you know anything about Quidditch?" Lynne asked, surprised.  
  
Tracey shook her head. "Not a clue, but you'll have to explain later."  
  
"What do you mean?" Lynne was puzzled now.  
  
Tracey nodded towards the doors to the entrance hall. "The teachers are about to come in."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Sure enough, the staff entered and walked up to the top table, taking their usual seats, but leaving the middle five open: Albus' throne-like one and two on either side. Last to enter were Albus, Professor Karkaroff, and Madam Maxime. The Beaubaxtons students jumped to their feet when their headmistress appeared and didn't sit back down until Madam Maxime took her seat to the left of Albus'. Albus remained standing and everyone present fell silent. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and--most particularly--guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be comfortable and enjoyable." One of the Beaubaxtons girls, a muffler still wrapped around her head, gave a derisive laugh and Tracey bristled, much like Jestana when the feline was ready to attack. Lynne put her hand on the other girl's shoulder to calm her down. "The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home."  
  
The food appeared in front of them and the Great Hall was filled with the chatter of many conversations and the clink of gold knives and forks against matching plates. "Wow, I've never seen such variety, not even at the Welcoming Feast."  
  
"It's probably because of our guests," Tracey told Dennis, examining one of the foreign dishes before scooping some onto her plate.  
  
"Good point," Dennis agreed, scooping steak-and-kidney pudding onto his plate.  
  
Conversation gave way to eating and Tracey passed the rest of the feast without speaking; partially because she was eating, but also because her head ached. When the golden plates were clean at last, Albus rose to his feet once again. "The moment has come. The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket--"  
  
"Casket?" Tracey muttered to Lynne.  
  
The other girl shrugged. "--just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year." Before he did, though, he introduced Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Tracey didn't really pay attention again until Albus mentioned that "--they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madam Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts." The attention of the students sharpened and Albus smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."  
  
The caretaker, who'd been waiting in a far corner of the Hall, now approached the headmaster, carrying a large wooden chest encrusted with jewels. Beside Tracey, Dennis stood on his chair so he could see it better, but he was so tiny that it didn't do him much good. Tracey's mind wandered again until her father stated, "The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."  
  
With these words, he drew out his wand and tapped three times on the top of the casket. Slowly, the lid creaked open. Albus reached in and lifted out a large, roughly-hewn wooden cup, filled to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Albus closed the casket and carefully placed the goblet on top of it, so everyone in the Hall could clearly see it. After explaining how aspiring champions could submit their names and warning younger students against trying to submit their names, he sent them off to bed. "I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."  
  
"See, Dennis? There's no way you can submit yourself," Tracey told him as they stood and headed for the doors.  
  
"Think about it, though," Dennis persisted as they squirmed and wriggled their way through the crowd. "A thousand Galleons, the glory of the school."  
  
She sighed and shook her head, only to lose her balance and nearly fall. "Whoa." Dennis managed to catch her, though. "Thanks, Den."  
  
"You're welcome, Trace," he replied as he helped her straighten up. "Are you okay?"  
  
They pressed forward and she decided against nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine. Dunno what happened there, though."  
  
"If you're sure," he answered doubtfully.  
  
She nodded carefully, and was able to keep from losing her balance this time. "I'm sure."  
  
"Okay." They made it into the entrance hall and headed up to Gryffindor Tower.  
  
By the time she reached the dormitory, her head was spinning so bad that she'd clung to the banister on her way up. Not even bothering to change out of her uniform and into her flannel pajamas, she kicked off her shoes, crawled into bed, and promptly fell asleep. She didn't even stir when the other three girls came in, or when Jestana curled up on her pillow by her head.  
  
* * *  
  
The next morning, Tracey woke and groaned. Her head ached. It was throbbing as if someone was pounding on a bass drum in her skull. "Tracey?"  
  
"Oh, Natalie, not so loud," Tracey moaned, pulling her covers over her head.  
  
Jestana meowed, causing Tracey to groan again. "Trace, what's wrong?"  
  
"My head _hurts_," she replied.  
  
One of the other girls sat down on the edge of Tracey's bed, making it dip under her weight. "Do you think you can stand up?"  
  
The mere thought made the girl groan again. "Uh-uh."  
  
"Alright, then." The other girls left Tracey alone and she'd gone back to sleep before the dormitory door closed behind the last of the girls to leave. 


	12. The Champions

12. The Champions  
  
A/N: For those of you wondering about the look on Minerva's face when Karkaroff and Albus were talking, she doesn't like him at all. Not only because he's a Death Eater, but also because he willingly turned in his fellow Death Eaters to avoid capture. So sorry it took me so long. I really struggled with writing this chapter. Thanks to Filodea, Dani, and Thestral Dea for their help and encouragement.  
  
Minerva was reviewing lesson plans for the upcoming weeks when a timid knock on her door brought her head up. "Come in!"  
  
"Professor?" This time, Lynne was accompanied by Natalie McDonald and Annie Sanders as she entered the office.  
  
Minerva watched the three girls file in with a slight feeling of dread. "Yes, Miss Jones, Miss McDonald, Miss Sanders?"  
  
"We think there's something wrong with Tracey, Professor," Annie answered when neither of the other two would answer.  
  
Minerva immediately set her quill down. "What exactly is the matter with Miss Cooper?"  
  
"Well, she seemed to act a lot like my father the morning after he's drunk a lot of firewhiskey," Natalie volunteered quietly.  
  
The Head of Gryffindor closed her eyes for a moment before opening them. "Thank you, Ladies, for telling me. Now, off with you and enjoy the day. I shall see to Miss Cooper." Waiting until the door had closed behind the three girls, Minerva threw some Floo powder onto the fire and stated clearly, "Albus Dumbledore's office."  
  
"My dear, what brings you here?" Albus' voice greeted her as she emerged from his fireplace.  
  
She looked around, making sure they were alone, before turning to him. "Tracey is sick."  
  
* * *  
  
"Tracey? Lass?" Tracey moaned in response. "Albus, should we take her to the Infirmary?"  
  
Tracey moaned again. "Mother?"  
  
"I'm here, Lass," Minerva's replied, brushing a lock of auburn hair from the girl's brow.  
  
Albus placed his hand on Minerva's shoulder and she looked up at him. "Mother?"  
  
Minerva blushed. "I forgot to mention that I had told her about our engagement."  
  
"It's quite all right, my dear." He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly before leaning forward slightly. "Tracey?"  
  
She moaned a third time. "Father?"  
  
"I think she needs to go to the Infirmary, Albus," Minerva told him, answering her own question and looking worried. "Her forehead is hot to the touch."  
  
He nodded and reached out to shake his daughter's shoulder. "Come on, Tracey. Time to go."  
  
"Go where?" she asked on a moan.  
  
Minerva stood and pulled the covers off her. "To the Infirmary."  
  
"Carry me?" Tracey asked plaintively, blue eyes barely open at all.  
  
Minerva glanced at Albus, who merely smiled. Sighing, Minerva leaned forward and carefully eased the girl into her arms. Tracey rested her head on Minerva's shoulder with a sigh. "Let's go, Albus."  
  
"Of course, my dear." Albus smiled and preceded her from the dormitory.  
  
* * *  
  
When Tracey awoke, her headache was gone. Opening her eyes, she smiled when she saw the feline curled up at the foot of her bed. "Hello, Jestana. How long have you been there?" She looked around. "Wait, where am I?"  
  
Jestana leapt from the bed to the floor and trotted out of the room. Narrowing her eyes, Tracey took a closer look at her surroundings. "Is this a hospital?"  
  
"Indeed, it is, Tracey," her father's voice made Tracey jump.  
  
Looking towards the door, Tracey grinned. Albus and Minerva stood there, side by side. If she hadn't been looking so closely, she would have missed the fact that they were holding hands. "Hello, Professors."  
  
"Hello, Miss Cooper," Minerva replied as she and Albus entered the room. "How are you feeling?"  
  
Tracey smiled up at them. "Much better."  
  
"That's good news," Albus smiled down at his daughter and she was almost sure she saw relief appear in his blue eyes for a moment.  
  
Tracey glanced around the hospital wing. "How long have I been in here?"  
  
"Most of the morning," Minerva informed the girl.  
  
At that moment, a witch Tracey recognized as the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, bustled into the hospital wing. Spotting Albus and Minerva, she approached, and then smiled when she saw that Tracey was sitting up in bed. "Ah, Miss Cooper. It's good to see you awake."  
  
"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey," Tracey replied, smiling up at the mediwitch.  
  
Nodding absently, Madam Pomfrey cast a charm of some sort on the girl. When she finished, Minerva was the one to ask, "Well?"  
  
"She's fine now, Minerva," Madam Pomfrey told the Deputy Headmistress. "Nothing plenty of rest won't cure."  
  
Tracey thought for a moment. "Wait, what about the announcement of the champions? Has it already taken place?"  
  
"No, Tracey." Albus shook his head. "That is this evening."  
  
Tracey turned pleading eyes on the school nurse. "May I attend the feast tonight, Madam Pomfrey? Please? I promise to take it easy the rest of the weekend."  
  
* * *  
  
After much pleading on Tracey's part, and intervention from Albus and Minerva, Madam Pomfrey had consented to let Tracey attend the Feast, provided she return to the hospital wing right after. Tracey had eagerly agreed and was now glad she had. All the food and smells were making her stomach queasy for some reason and she barely managed a few mouthfuls before pushing her plate away. She didn't even eat any dessert, though it was usually her favorite part of the meal. At long last, though, her father pulled out his wand and waved it in a sweeping arc, causing all the candles except the ones inside the floating pumpkins to go out, leaving everyone in semidarkness. Everyone waited tensely for the Goblet of Fire to reveal whom the champions were. After a short wait, the flames turned red and a charred slip of parchment fluttered out of the goblet, making everyone gasp. Albus caught it and held it nearer the flames, blue-white once more, so he could read it. "The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum."  
  
The Bulgarian rose from his seat at the Slytherin table to a storm of applause and cheering. As the boy made his way to the door indicated by Albus, Karkaroff boomed, "Bravo, Viktor! Knew you had it in you!"  
  
"Y'know, I still don't understand Quidditch," Tracey whispered to Lynne.  
  
"Shh!" Lynne whispered back, her eyes riveted on the goblet.  
  
Shrugging, Tracey looked up at the head table in time to see the blue-white flames turn red once more, another slip of parchment appearing. "The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"  
  
A tall, beautiful girl with a long sheet of silvery blonde hair that almost reached her waist rose from the Ravenclaw table and went the same direction Viktor Krum had gone. "Wow, she's gorgeous."  
  
"Oh, stop goggling, Dennis," Tracey retorted, annoyed. "Beauty's only skin- deep, y'know."  
  
"She's still one of the best-looking girls I've ever seen," he shot back, just as Lynne shushed them.  
  
This time, the silence that fell on the Great Hall was stiff with excitement and anticipation. The Hogwarts champion would be announced next. The flames turned red a third time and Albus caught a third slip of parchment. "The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!"  
  
The Hufflepuff table exploded with cheering, screaming and stamping, as a handsome sixth-year boy stood up, a broad smile on his face, and followed the previous two champions. Tracey noticed that some of her fellow Gryffindors weren't applauding and asked, "Why don't some people like him?"  
  
"He beat Gryffindor at Quidditch last year," Colin explained, leaning around his brother.  
  
"Oh." Still puzzled, Tracey waited for the applause to die down. She was beginning to develop a headache.  
  
"Excellent!" The applause had faded enough for Albus to be heard. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beaubaxtons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real--" When her father stopped speaking, Tracey looked up at the high table and gasped. The fire in the goblet had turned red a fourth time. A fourth slip of parchment was borne aloft and almost automatically, Albus reached out and plucked the parchment from the air. He stared at the name written on the parchment for a long moment before clearing his throat and saying it: "Harry Potter."  
  
Along with everyone else, Tracey turned to look at The Boy Who Lived. Judging by the expression on his face, he was as stunned as everyone else. A buzz began to fill the Hall and Tracey looked up at the high table to see what her father was going to do. Minerva had risen to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Karkaroff to whisper urgently into his ear. "Wow! Harry got his name in the Goblet."  
  
"Dennis, I don't think Harry put his name in," Tracey whispered back.  
  
Before he could reply, Albus nodded to Minerva and straightened up. "Harry Potter! Harry! Up here, if you please!" Once Harry disappeared through the door, Albus turned to the students. "Well, I hope you enjoyed the Feast. The date of the First Task will be announced shortly. Off to bed with you all."  
  
"I hope they let Harry compete!" Dennis exclaimed as everyone got to their feet to leave the Great Hall, talking excitedly amongst themselves.  
  
Remembering the looks on her father's and soon-to-be stepmother's faces, Tracey wondered if Harry competing was a bad idea. Saying good-bye to her friends at the bottom of the fifth-floor staircase, Tracey headed to the hospital wing, thinking only of getting some sleep. 


	13. First Task

13. First Task  
  
A/N: I apologize for the delay. Here it is, though. Hopefully, the next chappie won't take so long to write.  
  
Fully rested and feeling much better, Tracey left the hospital wing Monday morning. The school grapevine was teeming with rumors regarding how Harry Potter had managed to not only cross the Age Line surrounding the Goblet of Fire, but also how he'd managed to ensure that he would be named a champion. Tracey refused to speculate, informing her friends that it was pointless, because it was likely that their guesses were wrong anyway. Plus, Sandra had taught Tracey that gossiping about others was not nice and she should avoid it at all costs. Consequently, Tracey buried herself in her studies, becoming absorbed in the intricacies of learning magic. Her housemates learned not to bother discussing Harry Potter competing in the Triwizard Tournament with her. They'd only get monosyllabic answers out of her.  
  
Tracey was unaware that her father kept an eye on her through various means, including the Head of her House. Not that Minerva truly minded. The young girl had somehow managed to worm her way into the Deputy Headmistress's heart. Minerva looked upon several former students as her children, but never had one slipped so quickly and easily into her heart as Tracey Cooper. Minerva had spent more than one evening curled up in an out- of-the-way corner of the Gryffindor common room, watching the auburn head bent over book, parchment, and quill, doing her homework while other students played and generally ignored their homework.  
  
These evenings in the common room also provided Minerva with an opportunity to observe Harry Potter. What she saw worried her and she spoke with Albus about it. "The 'Gryffindor Trio', as Severus likes to call them, seems to have become a Duo, Albus."  
  
"Duo, my dear?" Albus asked, gazing at his fiancée over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. "What do you mean?"  
  
Minerva sighed and, removing her square spectacles, massaged the bridge of her nose. "Apparently, Harry being allowed to compete in the tournament has caused Ron to abandon him."  
  
"I am assuming that Hermione has not," Albus commented after a moment. "Considering that you mentioned that they were a Duo."  
  
Minerva nodded, slipping her spectacles back on and rolling her shoulders restlessly. "Yes, Hermione, at least, has stood by her friendship with Harry. I imagine it is a relief to the boy, although the hours in the library may not be to his liking."  
  
"Indeed," Albus chuckled, and then studied Minerva closely. "My dear, is something bothering you?"  
  
Minerva blinked and quickly stopped rubbing the back of her neck. "No, Albus, nothing is wrong."  
  
"Of course," he answered amiably. "That is why you have not sat still for ten seconds since you came in tonight."  
  
She sighed. "I am afraid that I am rather tense tonight, Albus. Nothing seems to help."  
  
"Perhaps I can," he suggested, rising and moving to stand behind her chair.  
  
"Oh, no, Albus, you--" her protests were cut short when he began to knead her neck and shoulders. "Oh. Oh, my."  
  
He chuckled as her head fell forward. "You were saying, my dear?"  
  
"Oh, that feels good, Albus," she murmured, her eyes falling closed. "I give you hours to stop."  
  
He chuckled again, amused by her reaction. "As you wish, Minerva."  
  
"Mm," she murmured, sighing contentedly as the tension drained from her neck and shoulders.  
  
He smiled as his long fingers worked their magic. For several long moments, neither said a word. Finally, he asked, "My dear, are you purring again?"  
  
"Mm-hmm," she murmured, her eyes fully closed now.  
  
He kissed the nape of her neck. "My work here is done."  
  
"Not quite yet, Albus," she countered, rising and turning to face him.  
  
He raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling merrily. "What do you mean, my dear?"  
  
"I mean you forgot something," she told him, moving around the chair in which she'd been sitting.  
  
"Oh?" He smiled, slipping his arms around her waist.  
  
She nodded, her arms winding their way around his neck. "Mm-hmm."  
  
"And what have I forgotten, may I ask?" he asked, quite happy to have her in his arms once again.  
  
By way of a reply, she tilted her chin up just a tiny bit and kissed him warmly. He gladly returned the kiss, his arms tightening around her. This was one perk of being engaged that he rather enjoyed.  
  
* * *  
  
Time sped by and November 24th dawned cold and clear. Tracey bundled up in her warmest cloak, scarf, and gloves. She really did not like the cold. She sat huddled between Annie and Lynne in the stands, the others in their year surrounding them. None of the students knew what the upcoming task would be, but Tracey could hear whispered conversations debating what dangerous task the champions would be set to perform. When she learned what it was, Tracey very nearly fainted. Dragons. Real, live dragons. Somehow, the fairy tales had made dragons seem wonderful and romantic, far from it. They were large and fearsome, with obvious bad tempers. Tracey would have given anything to get away from the dragons, but she wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. She sat quietly between her friends and watched as Cedric Diggory faced the Swedish Short-Snout, Fleur Delacour faced the Welsh Green, Viktor Krum faced the Chinese Fireball and Harry Potter faced the Hungarian Horntail. They cheered for each champion, although more loudly for Cedric and Harry, for obvious reasons.  
  
Glancing occasionally over at the judges' table, where her father sat with the other judges, Tracey was almost sure that his serene expression was a mask. She'd come to know him well enough to sort of guess his moods and he seemed tense to her. Not that she blamed him. Two of his students were facing dragons and he could do nothing for them. Tracey glanced over at her future stepmother several times as well. Her tension was easier to see. She stood ramrod straight, her lips in a straight line, and her hands occasionally twitched, as if she longed to grab her wand and charge in to help her students.  
  
By the time the students headed up to the castle, Tracey's sense of balance was shot once more. Lynne and Annie stayed close beside her, ready to steady her if she was about to fall down. "I hate this!"  
  
"We know, Tracey. Let's get you to Madam Pomfrey," Lynne suggested soothingly.  
  
Tracey resisted. "She's probably busy with the champions. That was a nasty burn Cedric got."  
  
"We can wait by the hospital wing if we have to," Annie retorted, pulling on Tracey's arm.  
  
Unable to maintain her balance, Tracey was practically dragged through the corridors of the school to the hospital wing. As predicted, there was a sign on the door indicating that Madam Pomfrey was at the First Task. "There. What did I tell you? Let's go."  
  
"I don't think so, Tracey," Lynne and Annie didn't relinquish their holds on Tracey's arms. "We're going to wait right here for her."  
  
Tracey had no choice, but to sit down with her friends. If she were honest, sitting down was better for her balance than standing. They hadn't been waiting long when Madam Pomfrey appeared, looking annoyed about something. "Miss Jones, Miss Cooper, Miss Sanders, what are you doing here?"  
  
"I'm having the same problem I had before, Madam Pomfrey," Tracey explained, carefully getting to her feet, the other two ready to steady her if she lost her balance again.  
  
Madam Pomfrey nodded and ushered Tracey into the hospital wing, pointing at one of the beds. Tracey sat still as Madam Pomfrey cast a Diagnostic charm. She terminated it with a sigh. "Well, Miss Cooper, it would appear your body is having trouble adjusting to the cold here in England."  
  
"What do you mean?" Tracey asked, glancing at her friends. They shrugged.  
  
Madam Pomfrey bustled over to the cabinet where she kept her potions. "What I mean, Miss Cooper, is that prolonged exposure to the cold, along with lots of noise, triggers migraines for you."  
  
"I've heard of those, but I'm not quite sure what they are," Lynne commented thoughtfully.  
  
Tracey shrugged as Madam Pomfrey returned with two vials and an empty goblet. "Essentially, a migraine is very intense headache, Miss Jones. It can be triggered by various things, depending on the patient."  
  
"And, in my case, it's a combination of cold and noise," Tracey commented, watching as Madam Pomfrey carefully mixed the two potions or solutions.  
  
The mediwitch nodded as she swirled the concoction in the goblet. "A combination of a soothing solution and headache potion will take care of it, but the proportion of the two is dependent on the patient."  
  
"This is the first time I've had a migraine, though," Tracey pointed out as Madam Pomfrey examined the mixture.  
  
She shook her head. "No, Miss Cooper, you had a migraine the last time you came in, but I had to use a different treatment."  
  
"Oh." Tracey reluctantly took the goblet and drank the contents. "Oh, yuck."  
  
Madam Pomfrey took the goblet and vanished it with a flick of her wand. "What did you expect, Miss Cooper? Pumpkin juice?"  
  
"No, Madam Pomfrey, but something more pleasant would have been nice," Tracey replied with a sigh. "Thanks anyway."  
  
When Tracey made to get off the bed, Madam Pomfrey stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Try to find somewhere quiet and warm to spend the rest of the day."  
  
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Tracey nodded and slid off the bed.  
  
The three girls left the hospital wing. "Considering Harry's performance today, I doubt the common room is going to be very quiet."  
  
"I know where to go," Tracey answered thoughtfully. "Would you two mind letting me go on my own, though?"  
  
Annie and Lynne exchanged glances. "Are you sure you'll be fine, Tracey?"  
  
"Yes, Lynne," Tracey replied with a smile. "I'm sure."  
  
Both girls looked doubtful. "Well, all right, then, but please make sure to come back in time for bed."  
  
"I will," Tracey assured them, watching until they'd turned a corner before heading down to an office two floors below.  
  
Feeling a little dizzy by the time she reached the office, Tracey raised a hand and knocked on the door. "Come in."  
  
"Hello, Professor McGonagall," Tracey greeted the professor after slipping into the office. "I have a slight problem." 


	14. Family Times

14. Family Times  
  
A/N: It's a struggle to write sometimes, but it usually goes swiftly once I have an idea. I wanted Tracey to have some time with Albus and Minerva, so here we go.  
  
"A problem, Miss Cooper?" Minerva asked, studying the girl carefully.  
  
Tracey nodded. "Yes, Professor."  
  
"What sort of problem?" Minerva sat back in her chair, wondering what Tracey was up to.  
  
Tracey repeated what Poppy had told her and ended with, "She suggested I go somewhere warm and quiet for the rest of the day."  
  
"Well, the common room is warm, of course, but I doubt it will be very quiet," the Deputy Headmistress commented thoughtfully.  
  
Tracey grinned. "That's why I came to you."  
  
"Indeed?" Minerva raised an eyebrow.  
  
The girl grinned unrepentantly. "Yes...Mother."  
  
"Very well, Tracey." Minerva smiled at her future stepdaughter as she stood up. "Come with me."  
  
"Okay!" Tracey was still grinning as Minerva led her through a door at the back of her office.  
  
It led them into a cozy sitting room decorated in the Gryffindor colors with a fire roaring in the fireplace. Minerva led Tracey over to the sofa facing the fireplace and gestured for the girl to lie down. "You should be fine here. I'll let the others know that you're fine."  
  
"Thank you, Mother," Tracey told Minerva quietly as she summoned a quilt with paw prints all over it.  
  
Minerva smiled as she tucked the girl in, "You're welcome, Tracey." On impulse, she leaned forward and kissed Tracey's forehead before straightening and leaving the sitting room. By the time she reached Gryffindor Tower, she was the stern Head of House once more. Her young lions faltered in their celebration when they saw her, but she told them to carry on. Finding her youngest group of lions, she assured them that Tracey was elsewhere in the castle and following Poppy's instructions.  
  
"May we visit her, Professor?" Dennis piped up.  
  
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Creevey, but Miss Cooper is most likely asleep by now."  
  
"Oh, all right." He looked disappointed and Minerva wondered at that.  
  
Telling them to enjoy the party, she left and went up to Albus' office. He was surprised to see her, but pleased all the same. "Ah, Minerva, what brings you here?"  
  
"Poppy saw Tracey again today," Minerva told him.  
  
He looked at her sharply over the tops of his spectacles. "She did?"  
  
"Yes," Minerva nodded. "Apparently, Tracey's body is having some trouble adjusting to the cold."  
  
He frowned. "It is not that cold here, my dear."  
  
"Not for us, no," she replied, wondering if she was going about this the right way or not. "However, Tracey grew up in a much warmer climate--"  
  
He nodded, interrupting her. "Southern California, yes, I know."  
  
"Consequently, she is not used to temperatures dropping this low," Minerva added as if he had not interrupted her, trying to make him see.  
  
He considered that for a moment, gazing thoughtfully into the fire. "Hmm. I see your point, my dear."  
  
"I am glad to hear it," she replied, wondering if he truly did.  
  
Silence reigned for a few moments before Albus stirred himself and asked, "Where is she now?"  
  
"In my sitting room," Minerva informed him. "Poppy told her to go somewhere warm and quiet for the rest of the day."  
  
He chuckled. "And the common room certainly will not be quiet."  
  
"Exactly," she agreed, smiling slightly.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey was disoriented for a few moments when she woke up from her impromptu nap. Looking around without moving her head, she remembered that she was in Minerva's sitting room. A movement by her feet drew her attention and she smiled when she saw the Russian Blue curled up there. Moving carefully, she sat up and reached out to pet her cat. Jestana purred and walked onto Tracey's lap. As Tracey stroked and petted the feline, her vivid green eyes closed and she began to purr like a little motorboat. "I don't know how you got here, Jestana, but I'm glad to see you here."  
  
"Good." Albus' voice startled Tracey and she had to grab onto the back of the sofa to keep from falling off. "I apologize, I should not have startled you."  
  
He moved forward as Tracey re-settled herself on the sofa. "It's okay, Father." She blinked as she recalled where they were. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Minerva told me about your visit with Poppy," Albus explained as he sat down at the end of the sofa. "I hadn't thought that you might have some trouble with the cold."  
  
Tracey shrugged, still petting her cat. "I don't think any of us considered that. There are days when I wish I could wear my jeans instead of a skirt."  
  
"Tracey, you could have asked for trousers instead of skirts when you got your uniform," Albus told her, his voice gentle.  
  
She blinked and stared at him. "I could have?"  
  
"Yes," he nodded, his eyes concerned. "Did Minerva not tell you that?"  
  
Tracey shook her head. "No, but it was all so new and fantastic that I didn't think much about it."  
  
"I see." He looked thoughtful as he gazed into the fire.  
  
When he turned his gaze back to his daughter, however, there was a gleam in his eyes that made her a little nervous. She turned out to have a good reason to be nervous because he grabbed one of her be-socked feet and began to tickle it. She burst into helpless giggles and began to wriggle and squirm, causing Jestana to be dumped unceremoniously on the floor. The feline stalked out of the room, tail high, as Tracey continued to try to escape her father's tickling fingers. He showed no mercy, chuckling at Tracey's efforts. "Albus, she is supposed to be resting."  
  
"She is, my dear," Albus countered even as he continued to tickle Tracey's feet. "She is laying down, after all."  
  
Minerva set the tray she'd been carrying down on the low table in front of the sofa. "She can hardly breathe, Albus, because she is laughing so hard."  
  
"Well, that is true," he conceded, releasing Tracey's feet.  
  
She lay still for a few moments, catching her breath. She finally noticed the tray on the table and the food it contained. "Is that dinner?"  
  
"Yes, Tracey, it is," Minerva replied as the girl sat up and pushed her tousled auburn hair out of her face.  
  
Albus smiled and stroked his daughter's hair. "Are you hungry?"  
  
"Yes, Father." Tracey smiled brightly up at him.  
  
Minerva sat down on the other side of the girl. "Shall we eat, then?"  
  
"Yeah!" Tracey's enthusiasm elicited chuckles from the adults on either side of her and they began to eat.  
  
Once the dishes were empty, Minerva took Tracey back up to the Gryffindor common room, which was considerably quieter now. Before Tracey could even make it across to the staircase leading up to the dormitories, Dennis Creevey stopped her. "Tracey where have you been?"  
  
"Didn't Professor McGonagall tell you?" Tracey asked her friend, confused.  
  
He shrugged one shoulder. "He just told us that you were somewhere else in the castle because you needed to be someplace warm and quiet."  
  
"Exactly," Tracey nodded, wondering what the problem was.  
  
Dennis ran a hand through his mousy hair. "Well, when I asked if I could visit you, she said you were most likely asleep."  
  
"Well, I _did_ end up falling asleep," Tracey replied, still not sure what the problem was. "What's your point, Den?"  
  
He looked down and scuffed the toe of one shoe on the carpeted floor. "I dunno."  
  
"Fine, I'm going up to my room." Tracey finally moved past him and went up to her dorm room. The other three were there and wasted no time asking where she'd been. "I'd rather not say right now," Tracey finally managed to make herself heard, although she wasn't sure why she didn't want to say. "It was warm and quiet, just like Madam Pomfrey suggested, now please leave me alone."  
  
They did and Tracey walked over to her bed, where Jestana was already curled up into a ball of silver-blue fur. Smiling, Tracey sat down on the bed and began to pet her cat once more.  
  
* * *  
  
By the time the Christmas holidays arrived, Tracey was ready to go home and spend time with her family. It got to the point where she went to the Hospital Wing every morning before going down to breakfast just to avoid getting migraines. The days she went outside for some reason or another were the worst. She usually ended up spending those evenings in Minerva's study or her father's because the common room would be too noisy. She would sit and do her homework, away from the noise, usually wrapped up in a warm quilt with a mug of cocoa nearby. If she had difficulty, Albus and Minerva were quite willing to help, although they never gave her any of the answers, just a push in the right direction.  
  
On the train ride to London, Tracey wasted no time changing into a set of thermals, a pair of jeans, a turtleneck, a thick sweater, and a pair of snow boots. When they arrived at King's Cross, Tracey pulled on a warm jacket, a beanie, and a pair of lined gloves before climbing off the train. She was greeted by her parents, both of whom were dressed as warmly as she. Ryan had grown up in southern California, like Tracey had, and Sandra, although having grown up in England, had spent the last eleven years in southern California, so neither were used to the cold, either. They wasted no time returning to their London flat and the entire family was soon ensconced in front of a roaring fire, wrapped up in blankets and each holding a mug of cocoa. "So, Tracey, how was your first term at Hogwarts?"  
  
"Awesome!" was the prompt reply, causing Ryan and Sandra to laugh. Tracey joined them moments later, then Lynda and Jeff joined in just because the others were laughing. It was an excellent start to their first Christmas season in England. 


	15. Winter Holidays

**15. Winter Holidays**  
  
_A/N: The scene in the previous chapter, where Albus tickles Tracey's feet, is a tribute, of sorts, to my own dad, who loves to tickle feet. Enjoy this chappie!  
_  
"Mom?" Tracey's voice distracted Sandra from the book she was reading several days before Christmas.  
  
She looked up to find her daughter standing beside her chair, looking sober. "Yes, Tracey?"  
  
"Can we talk?" Tracey requested, fidgeting with the hem of the sweater.  
  
Sandra marked her place in the book and set it aside. "Of course."  
  
"In private?" Tracey added, glancing in the direction of the family room, where Ryan was playing with Lynda and Jeffrey.  
  
Sandra nodded and led the way to the master bedroom. When they had settled on the bed, Tracey sitting cross-legged and Sandra with her feet tucked under her, Sandra asked, "Okay, Tracey, what did you want to talk about?"  
  
"Did you know that there's something between Father and Professor McGonagall?" Tracey asked without preamble.  
  
Sandra blinked, startled by this confirmation of her suspicions. "No, but I hoped there was."  
  
"Well, they're engaged," Tracey told her mother bluntly.  
  
Sandra smiled, glad that Albus wouldn't be alone, as she'd feared he would be. "How wonderful!"  
  
Tracey nodded, but there was no sign of the twinkle that told Sandra her daughter was happy in the bright blue eyes. "Yes, wonderful."  
  
"Tracey?" Sandra touched her daughter's shoulder. "Is there something you're not telling me?"  
  
Tracey shrugged, avoiding her mother's hazel gaze. "Maybe."  
  
"Why don't you tell me?" Sandra suggested quietly, wondering if all the changes since the summer were affecting her daughter more than Tracey let on. "Maybe I can help you."  
  
Tracey shrugged again, picking at the bedspread. "I don't know, Mom. I can't quite explain it to myself."  
  
"I won't push, but you know where I am if you need to talk." Sandra squeezed Tracey's shoulder reassuringly.  
  
Tracey nodded, smiling faintly as she covered her mother's hand with her own. "I know, Mom, I know."  
  
Minerva was not surprised to find Albus waiting for her when she returned to her rooms after making sure all her young lions had safely returned to Gryffindor Tower after the Yule Ball. "Hello, Minerva."  
  
"Hello, Albus," she replied, content to let him guide her to the sofa and sit down.  
  
Rather than let her curl up against him, however, he began to massage her neck and shoulders. She sighed and let her chin fall to her chest. By the time Albus finished, she was too relaxed to object when he pulled the pins from her hair and let it flow down her back. "Your hair is beautiful, my love. Why do you keep it pulled back all the time?"  
  
"Because it would just get in the way if I did not," she replied, stretching out on the sofa with her head in his lap.  
  
He chuckled and idly stroked her hair. "Minerva, I am quite glad that you accepted my proposal of marriage, but we still need to set a date."  
  
"I know, Albus, but do you think it would be wise to do so at this time?" she asked softly. "Our courtship was very brief after all."  
  
An amused twinkle appeared in the bright blue eyes above her. "We have known each other for close to sixty years, Minerva, and I have loved you for fifty of them. Do you really think a long engagement is necessary?"  
  
"You have loved me for that long?" she asked, surprised.  
  
He nodded, tracing her eyebrows with the tip of one long, thin finger. "Yes, my dear, I have."  
  
"All that time," she murmured, turning her head to gaze into the fire. "All those years, you loved me and I loved you and neither of us said a word."  
  
He chuckled. "Rather odd, considering we were both Gryffindors."  
  
"And still are, Albus," she added indignantly.  
  
He stroked her hair soothingly. "Shh, Tabby, shh. I never said you were not anymore. You have just mellowed with age."  
  
She arched an eyebrow at him, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "You have not."  
  
"I certainly hope not," he answered, his eyes twinkling merrily. "I have a reputation to maintain."  
  
The smile appeared as she reached up to stroke his cheek, "And I would not have you any other way."  
  
"This is not settling the question of when we should be married," he commented, even as he turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand.  
  
She sighed. "Why do we need to settle it now, Albus?"  
  
"Why do you want to put it off, Minerva?" he asked, smoothing her hair back from her face. "You always like to know when things are going to happen, yet you do not want to set a date for our wedding."  
  
She sat up, feeling the tension begin to return to her muscles. "Albus, I cannot answer the question because I do not know myself. Lately, I find myself unwilling to think of setting a date for our wedding."  
  
"Do you not want to marry me, then?" The crestfallen tone of his voice broke her heart.  
  
Turning swiftly, she cradled his face between her hands and waited until his eyes met hers. "I could never regret saying yes to you, Albus Dumbledore. You are my love, my life, and my all. I cannot imagine a life without you, either as my dearest friend or my husband."  
  
"I'm so glad, Minerva." He gathered her to him in a fierce hug. "I was afraid you would have second thoughts about marrying me."  
  
She hugged him back. "Never, Albus. I have dreamed of marrying you for years."  
  
"So, why not set a date?" he asked, his voice rumbling beneath her cheek.  
  
She pulled back and looked up at him. "Very well. What date would you like?"  
  
"Sometime in the summer?" he suggested. "So we can enjoy our honeymoon?"  
  
She smiled, kissing the tip of his crooked nose. "How does the end of June sound to you?"  
  
"Perfect," he replied before kissing her. She gladly kissed him back, her arms encircling his neck.  
  
When Tracey returned to Hogwarts, she found a note waiting for her on her bed. It was from Professor McGonagall, requesting Tracey's presence in the professor's office. Wondering what was going on, Tracey made her way down to the first floor office. She knocked on the door and poked her head inside when Professor McGonagall called, "Come in!"  
  
"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Tracey asked, a little unsure of what to do.  
  
Professor McGonagall looked up from the scroll she was reading. "Yes, Miss Cooper, please come in."  
  
"Um, okay," Tracey entered the office and closed the door behind her. "What did you want to see me about?"  
  
The professor gestured to a tartan tin on her desk. "Have a biscuit?"  
  
"A what?" Tracey stared at the tin, confused. "Those are cookies."  
  
Was that a smile that twitched at the corner of the Deputy Headmistress' mouth? "They are called biscuits here in England."  
  
"Oh." Tracey studied them for a moment. "What kind of cookies, uh, biscuits, are they?"  
  
That was _definitely _a smile. "Ginger Newts."  
  
A little cautiously, Tracey plucked a cookie from the tin and nibbled it. After pausing to let the taste register, she took a larger bite. "This is good."  
  
"I am glad you like them," the Transfiguration professor commented, all signs of amusement gone from her face.  
  
Tracey noticed the change and asked, "Why did you want to see me, Professor?"  
  
"I wanted to remind you to keep certain things to yourself," Professor McGonagall told Tracey quietly.  
  
Tracey blinked, a little annoyed. "Professor, I'll be twelve in July. You don't need to treat me like a child."  
  
"You are still a child, Miss Cooper," was the gentle reply, "whether you choose to accept it or not."  
  
Tracey stood and, bracing her hands on the desk, told the professor, "I told my mother over the winter holidays because I knew she would want to know. I haven't told anyone else and she knows better than to tell. I learned how to keep secrets from my mother. She kept one from her own children for eleven years. I doubt Lynda and Jeff know the full truth. Of course, they're a little young to understand, but that's beside the point."  
  
"What is your point, Miss Cooper?" Professor McGonagall asked, the Scottish burr in her voice becoming more pronounced.  
  
Tracey missed the warning sign, too caught up in her own feelings. "My point is that I'm not a baby. I'm growing up. Maybe you can't see it, but Mom does. She treats me like an adult. She tells me things because she feels I should know them. What she hasn't told me, she will when she thinks I can handle it."  
  
"I will keep that in mind, Miss Cooper," Professor McGonagall's voice had lost the burr, but it was cool and crisp. "You may go now."  
  
Scowling, Tracey straightened and walked to the door. At the door, she paused to add, "Just because I'm a student doesn't mean you can't trust me."  
  
Tracey carefully shut the door behind her to keep from slamming it before returning to Gryffindor Tower. Minerva stared at the door Tracey closed behind her, wondering what had gone wrong. 


	16. I Won't!

**16. I Won't!**  
  
_A/N:_ Don't worry about the fact that Tracey lashed out at Minerva; they'll work things out. It just might take awhile.  
  
Minerva spoke with Albus about her conversation with Tracey. "We were getting along fine until I explained why I had asked to see her in the first place."  
  
"Which was what, my dear?" Albus asked, the firelight glinting on his half- moon spectacles.  
  
She sighed, watching the play of light and shadow on the wall. "I wanted to remind her to keep quiet about certain things."  
  
"I see." Albus gazed thoughtfully into the fire. "What happened after you reminded her?"  
  
Minerva shuddered slightly, remembering how the twinkle in Tracey's eyes had been extinguished in a single moment, the girl's face hardening. "She reminded me that she would be twelve in July and that I do not need to treat her like a child."  
  
"But she is a child," Albus pointed out quietly.  
  
Minerva nodded. "That is what I told her myself. She said that she had told Sandra over the winter holidays, because she knew her mother would wish to know, but told no one else."  
  
"Did Tracey say anything else?" Albus asked, sounding thoughtful.  
  
Minerva sighed. "Yes. She said that she had learned how to keep secrets from Sandra, who'd kept one from her own children for eleven years."  
  
"The fact that she was from an entirely different time period," Albus commented.  
  
Minerva nodded her agreement. "Exactly. I asked Tracey what her point was and she told me that she is not a baby: she is growing up. She wishes to be treated more like an adult and less like a child."  
  
"This is interesting news," Albus stated, rising to look out the window.  
  
Minerva watched him for a few moments. "I am not entirely sure it is I she is mad at."  
  
Albus turned to look at his fiancée. "What do you mean, Minerva?"  
  
"I mean, Albus, that she may actually be mad at _you_ for some reason," Minerva explained, rising to join him by the window. "I have decided to treat Tracey more like an adult because that is how she wishes to be treated. After all," she turned to the window, "part of being an adult is being treated like one by other adults."  
  
He nodded slowly, still thoughtful, as he slipped his arms around her waist. "I shall consider your advice, my dear."  
  
"That is all I ask, my love." Minerva leaned back into his embrace and they gazed out the window together.

* * *

With the change of term came a change in Tracey. She tended to be quieter and moodier. She didn't lash out at her friends or Jestana, but she didn't smile very often, nor did she raise her hand to answer questions in class, particularly Transfiguration. Her friends asked her what was wrong, but she refused to tell them anything. Now that she'd had a chance to calm down, Tracey realized that Minerva was treating her like any other first year and not differently from her peers. Tracey regretted lashing out at the professor, but she had become accustomed to being treated as an adult because that was how Sandra and Ryan treated her. Being the oldest of three had caused her to mature more quickly than most students her age. She'd helped her mother with Lynda and Jeffery ever since they were little. She vividly remembered rocking Jeffrey to sleep when Sandra was trying to get Lynda to bed.  
  
Tracey also had to contend with the fact that she looked younger than she actually was. Professor Flitwick understood her problem because he barely reached her shoulder. Dennis really didn't mind, but nothing really seemed to faze him anyway. Tracey became quite skilled at hiding what she was feeling behind a mask that revealed nothing of what she truly felt. Only people who knew her well learned how to read the signs she could not hide. One of those people was Minerva. True to what she had told her fiancé, she treated the girl as more of an adult and Tracey responded to this, happy that she'd gotten her point across. It was not unusual to find Tracey in the Head of Gryffindor's office, having a cup of tea with her. It was during one of these times that Minerva addressed Tracey's outburst before the start of term. "Miss Cooper, why exactly did you lash out?"  
  
"I didn't mean to, Professor," Tracey replied, feeling bashful. "I used to think I had a pretty stable temper, but now I'm not so sure."  
  
After a short silence, Minerva commented, "I did not ask for an apology, Lass. I asked why you lashed out?"  
  
"Oh, right," Tracey matter-of-factly smacked her temple. "Well, a lot of things, really."  
  
Minerva leaned forward slightly in her chair. "What sorts of things?"  
  
"Um, being babied is one of them," Tracey admitted. "I also feel like Father is keeping things from me, because I'm so young."  
  
Minerva sighed. "Being small for your age does not help, either."  
  
"Don't I know it," Tracey made a face. "Lots of things would annoy me last term, but I didn't say anything. I just swallowed my anger and annoyance and all that. The way you reminded me to keep certain things secret, well, it hit a pretty raw nerve and set me off."  
  
The professor sipped her tea in silence for a few moments. "So you were not really mad at me?"  
  
"Nope," Tracey shook her head. "I'm really sorry I got on your case, Professor. You just said the wrong thing at the wrong time."  
  
Teacher gazed at student for a long moment before replying. "I am glad to know you were not mad at me. Is there anyone in particular you _are_ mad at? Or at least annoyed with to no small degree."  
  
Tracey focused on draining her teacup and setting it aside. "I suppose so."  
  
"Do not suppose, Tracey," Minerva's voice kept Tracey in her seat, though the girl refused to meet the sharp gaze. "That can lead to some wrong decisions."  
  
Tracey sighed and closed her eyes. "Please don't make me say it, Professor."  
  
"I must, Tracey." The girl jumped when the professor's hand enveloped hers. "If you do nothing for it, the anger, annoyance, and hurt will fester until it bursts out at a most inopportune time."  
  
Tracey could feel her temper beginning to bubble and focused on controlling it, tamping it down. "I can't, Professor." She opened her eyes and they immediately locked with Minerva's dark green ones. "I can't lash out at him."  
  
"It is Albus, is it not?" Minerva asked, holding onto Tracey's hands. "He is the true object of your ire?"  
  
Closing her eyes against the tears that wanted to come, Tracey nodded. "Yes, he is."  
  
"Do not take it out on others, Lass," Minerva advised the girl. "He could withstand the onslaught and it may help you both in the end."  
  
Tracey looked at Minerva with anguished eyes. "I can't, Professor! He's the Headmaster of the school, the greatest wizard of our time, the only one You- Know-Who feared, and--and--"  
  
"And your father," Minerva added what Tracey did not have the courage to say. The girl nodded, swallowing against the tears clogging her throat. "It would not be a pleasant experience for either of you, I am sure, but it is something that must be done. He is not aware that he has done anything to upset you. I can only guess. You must tell him yourself."  
  
Tracey shook her head frantically. "Didn't you hear me, Professor? I can't!"  
  
"Not can't, won't," Minerva clarified. "You won't until he is the one to trigger your temper."  
  
Sighing, Tracey wiped at the tears that had managed to leak out. "For a woman who's never raised children, you certainly seem to know how our minds work."  
  
"I have been teaching for over 38 years," Minerva pointed out, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket and offering it to her future stepdaughter. "I certainly hope I have learned a few things from my students."  
  
Tracey accepted the handkerchief and wiped her face with it. "I suppose the saying about teachers learning from their students is a true one?"  
  
"Yes, indeed," Minerva confirmed with a nod and a quiet smile. "Are you feeling better?"  
  
"A little," Tracey admitted, returning the handkerchief.  
  
Minerva cleaned it with a muttered 'Scourgify' and tucked it into her pocket. "I will not push you, but keep in mind that Albus has been yelled at by more than one person."  
  
"You included?" the girl asked, tongue in cheek.  
  
She was rewarded with a soft laugh. "Yes, I admit that I have a formidable temper of my own. I keep it reigned in as much as I can, cannot always control it."  
  
"So you yell at Father," Tracey deduced, a little awed.  
  
Minerva nodded. "Yes, I yell at him."  
  
"Why?" Curiosity piqued, Tracey gazed at her future stepmother intently.  
  
Minerva released Tracey's hands with a soft sigh and rose to return to her own seat. "Because it is safe for me to do so."  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Tracey, puzzled.  
  
Dark green eyes gazed unseeingly into the fire. "He has been there for me ever since my schooldays, Lassie. When I was teased and mocked, he was there to offer a cup of tea and a lemon drop. All through the fight with Grindelwald, Albus was there to offer a shoulder for me to cry on. When my job at the Ministry annoyed me, I would go to Albus to complain. He was always there as I struggled through my first year of teaching. No matter what was going on, I knew I could count on him. Joy shared is doubled, Lass, but grief shared is halved."  
  
"Wow." Tracey stared at the professor in awe.  
  
A knock on the door surprised both and Minerva called, "Come in!"  
  
"I am sorry to disturb you, Minerva, but--" Albus abruptly stopped speaking when he noticed who else was in the room. "Ah, Miss Cooper, hello."  
  
Tracey's voice was quiet and calm as she set her teacup on the small table by her chair. "Hello, Professor, I was just about to leave."  
  
"Do not forget what we discussed, Miss Cooper," Minerva reminded the girl.  
  
Tracey nodded. "I won't, Professor." She paused and looked up at her father, holding his gaze for a moment. "Good evening, Headmaster."  
  
"Good evening, Miss Cooper," Albus replied, his eyes twinkling slightly behind his half-moon spectacles.  
  
Nodding slightly, Tracey left the office and headed up to Gryffindor Tower.


	17. Two Tasks

**17. Two Tasks**  
  
_A/N:_ This took me some time to figure out, but I finally managed it. Anyway, thanks to Dani for looking it over for me.  
  
Albus watched his daughter go with some confusion. Was it something he had said? Closing the door, he turned to find his fiancé fussing with the tea things. Glancing over his shoulder at the door, he approached her. "My dear, is something wrong with Miss Cooper?"  
  
"There is, in a way," Minerva replied, Vanishing the tea things with a flick of her wand. "We talked about it, but did not really resolve anything."  
  
Albus nodded. "I see."  
  
"You wished to see me about something?" Minerva asked, gesturing for him to have a seat.  
  
He sat and pulled her down to sit beside him. "Yes, I did, but first--" he drew her into a warm kiss, his arms tight around her. "Much better."  
  
"I agree," she replied, looking flushed and sounding breathless. "Now, what did you wish to see me about?"  
  
He sighed, leaning his forehead against hers. She was not going to like this one bit, of that, he was sure. "The Second Task."  
  
"What about it?" she asked, frowning. When he didn't answer right away, she sat up and turned away from him slightly. "It must be unpleasant, if you are hesitating like this."  
  
He sighed again and touched her shoulder. She flinched slightly, but did not look at him. "Minerva, please look at me." She turned her head enough so her eyes met his. "The Second Task will require the champions to retrieve something precious to them from the bottom of the lake."  
  
"The lake?" she repeated, gazing at him with suspicious eyes. He nodded. "I am presuming that I will not like whatever the requirements are for this precious item?"  
  
He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself for her infamous temper. "The thing that is precious to them will be a human being."  
  
"WHAT?!" She jumped to her feet and towered over him. "It is not enough that the students who voluntarily submitted their names endanger themselves, but four others must be endangered as well?!"  
  
Albus rose to his feet as well, doing his best to keep her calm. "I do not like it, either, my dear, but we do not have much of a choice."  
  
"I sincerely hope that we will be taking precautions for the others' safety," Minerva countered, narrowing her eyes at him.  
  
He gazed levelly at her over the tops of his half-moon spectacles until her cheeks turned red and she dropped her gaze. "Of course, my dear. The 'precious items' will be placed under a charmed sleep the night before the Second Task and they will not awaken until they have reached the surface of the lake once more."  
  
"What about while they are under the surface, Albus?" Minerva asked, sounding more subdued, but no less angry. "In case you had not noticed, they will need air to breathe."  
  
He calmly explained, "The charmed sleep will allow them to breathe underwater." His eyes twinkled. "Any more questions?"  
  
She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. "Hold me?"  
  
"Gladly." His arms encircled her and they held each other for a long time, taking comfort in the mere presence of the other.

* * *

The rest of the school year passed quietly for Tracey. She attended classes, watched the Second Task, attended classes, spent spring break at the castle, and, oh, did I mention that she attended classes? She visited Professor McGonagall a couple more times, but could see that her professor had a lot to do, so Tracey stopped visiting. She still hung out with her friends, but they noticed that she was most definitely quieter than she had been at the beginning of the school year. When pressed for answers, though, Tracey would tell them she didn't want to talk about it. They accepted this and didn't push.  
  
The night of the Third Task arrived and it was the longest Tracey had been through in her life. It was almost as boring as the Second Task, except they could at least hear the champions shouting spells and hexes. On the whole, the students were pretty rowdy, wanting the task to end. When Viktor Krum shouted 'Crucio', though, the crowd became utterly silent. Tracey wasn't sure what the curse was, but she had a feeling it wasn't a very nice one. A lot of shouting from Harry and Cedric was followed by a long, tense silence, however. Students began to fidget and whisper amongst themselves. From her seat in the stands, Tracey could see Professor McGonagall and knew she was worried. Leaning forward slightly, Tracey looked over at the judges' table and knew her father was worried, too.  
  
Just as Albus and Professor Moody were beginning to walk around the exterior of the maze, with Professor Moody looking through the hedges, Harry Potter slammed to the ground in front of the maze. He had the Triwizard Cup in one hand and Cedric Diggory's wrist in the other. Something about Cedric made Tracey's blood run cold. Their reappearance caused a stampede, but Tracey kept her seat in the stands. When the news that Cedric Diggory was dead reached her ears, she slowly got to her feet and made her way to the castle, her body shaking. The sight of Cedric's dead body had brought back memories that Tracey would rather have kept buried. She desperately needed to talk to someone, but the only people she _could_ talk to were busy.  
  
Sighing, she went up to her dormitory, curled up on her bed, and fell into a fitful sleep before the other girls even thought about going to bed. Jestana stayed curled up at the foot of Tracey's bed until the others went to bed. When all of them were asleep, the Russian Blue slipped off Tracey's bed and out the door of the dormitory.

* * *

When Minerva arrived at her rooms after seeing Hagrid and Madame Maxime to the entrance hall once their meeting with Albus was over, she was surprised to find a sleek silver-blue cat waiting for her. "Jestana, hello." The cat meowed and darted into the room ahead of Minerva when she opened the door. Closing the door behind her, Minerva wasted no time slipping into her Animagus form. "_What brings you here? Why are you not with Tracey?_"  
  
"_Tracey is asleep,_" Jestana told Minerva, jumping up onto the couch.  
  
Minerva followed, settling into the meatloaf position facing Jestana. "_Something about her must be worrying you or you would not be here._"  
  
"_Brilliantly worked out,_" the silver-blue feline replied, her tail twitching agitatedly behind her. "_Tracey was shaking pretty badly when she got to the dormitory and I don't think she's sleeping very well right now._"  
  
Minerva sat bolt upright at this. "_I did not see her when I spoke to my young lions earlier._"  
  
"_Tracey was in bed long before her roommates arrived,_" Jestana offered, her long tail twitching occasionally.  
  
Minerva jumped down from the couch and paced for a few moments. "_I shall go to her, then._"  
  
"_Don't you think it would be seen as favoritism?_" Jestana pointed out, having spoken with Minerva on more than one occasion.  
  
Minerva hissed. "_As her Head of House, I am allowed to help her to a small extent._"  
  
"_No need to scratch my eyes out,_" Jestana grumbled, her ears folded back.  
  
Still a cat, Minerva left her rooms and made her way to Gryffindor Tower. The common room was empty, for which Minerva was very glad, and she easily made her way up to the first year girls' dormitory. Slipping inside, she resumed her human form and stealthily crossed to the bed farthest from the door. Peeking between the hanging curtains, she saw that Tracey had been tossing and turning in her sleep, the covers twisted around her slender frame. Minerva's heart twisted in her chest. "Oh, Lassie."  
  
Carefully extricating the girl from the covers, Minerva scooped her up and carried her to her own rooms. Tracey instinctively cuddled against Minerva and the Transfiguration professor could feel her relaxing already. Albus was waiting for her this time and he did not look pleased. "My dear, what are you doing with her?"  
  
"She needs comfort, Albus," Minerva informed him briskly, carrying the girl into her bedroom, where she set Tracey on the large four-poster bed. When she tried to straighten up, the girl whimpered. "Shh, Lass, shh."  
  
Tracey subsided and Minerva was able to stand up straight and looked straight into the eyes of her fiancée. "Why have you brought her here? Surely she would be fine with her roommates?"  
  
"Albus, she was badly shaken by tonight's events," Minerva told him quietly, carefully easing Tracey under the covers. "She was not in the common room when I spoke with my lions and Jestana told me that she was shaking when she went up to her room."  
  
The Russian Blue leapt lightly onto the bed and curled up with Tracey, purring comfortingly. Albus reached out and ran the tip of one long finger along the feline's spine. "So you brought her here?"  
  
"Yes, I did." Minerva raised her chin and narrowed her eyes at her future husband. "She needs a mother right now, just like Harry."  
  
He blinked and looked down at Tracey for a long moment, as if truly seeing her. Most of the time, the girl's auburn hair was pulled back out of her face, but now it was loose, spread around her face, which had lost all color. Her mouth looked strained, as if she was dreaming about something unpleasant. "Very well. She may stay here for tonight."  
  
"Thank you, Albus." Minerva moved around the bed to squeeze his hand. Studying his face, she saw that he was not much better off than his daughter. Hesitantly, she offered, "Perhaps you should not sleep alone, either."  
  
He blinked and stared at her. "What are you saying, Minerva?"  
  
"Today was rather stressful for the both of us, Albus," she told him quietly, entwining her fingers with his. "Please, stay with Tracey and I?"  
  
He looked from her, to his daughter, and back again before nodding. "Very well."  
  
"Thank you, Albus." She squeezed his hand again before heading for the bathroom, gathering what she needed along the way.  
  
When she emerged from the bathroom, wearing her dressing gown over her nightdress, Albus had had one of the house-elves bring him a change of clothes from his own rooms. While he went into the bathroom to change, Minerva undid her bun, brushed out her hair, and braided it quickly and efficiently. Ready for bed now, Minerva carefully slipped under the covers beside Tracey. Jestana made a 'brrt' sound of annoyance before moving to the foot of the bed. Minerva gathered her future stepdaughter to her and felt the girl begin to relax. "This looks cozy, where do I fit in?"  
  
"On the other side of Tracey, Albus," Minerva told him, stroking the girl's hair soothingly.  
  
Setting his clothes for the next day on a nearby chair, Albus slipped under the covers and shifted so Tracey was sandwiched between himself and Minerva. Cocooned between the two adults, Tracey began to fully relax and Minerva noticed that the small girl's face looked more peaceful. A touch on her shoulder drew her attention to Albus, who was propped up on one elbow. "I love you, Minerva."  
  
"I love you, too, Albus," she answered, propping herself up on one elbow to kiss him softly.  
  
She watched as he kissed his daughter's forehead before settling down to sleep. Doing the same, she let sleep wash over her at last. 


	18. KABOOM!

**18. KA-BOOM!**

_A/N:_ I'm glad for all the positive reviews I got for the last chappie. It'll be interesting to see what people have to say about THIS chappie.

When Tracey awoke the next morning sandwiched between two larger bodies, she panicked and began struggling to extricate herself. A large, warm hand landed on her shoulder and her father's deep voice rumbled beside her. "Calm down, Tracey. You are safe here. Calm down."

"Thanks, Father," Tracey replied, taking slow, deep breaths. She opened her eyes and looked around. The room was furnished in deep red with gold accents and oak wood trim. "Where am I?"

She jumped when Professor McGonagall's voice answered from her other side. "In my bedroom. There is no need for you to worry, Lass."

"You scared me!" Tracey exclaimed, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Is there anyone else in here?" A 'meow' warned Tracey just moments before Jestana plopped herself in the girl's lap. "Well, that answers _that_ question."

The three of them laughed as Tracey began stroking her pet's soft fur. "I am glad to see you in a good mood this morning, Tracey."

"Why's that, Father?" Tracey asked, looking up as Albus sat up beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he did so.

She unconsciously leaned into him, taking comfort in his warmth. "Minerva tells me you were rather distressed by last night's events."

"You saw?" Tracey asked, opening her eyes to look at her Head of House. Minerva was sitting up as well, her black hair pulled back into a rather messy plait and her face relaxed for once, although Tracey could see the worry in her eyes behind the square spectacles. Speaking of those... "Where are my glasses?"

Minerva turned and plucked something from the bedside table. When she turned back, she was holding Tracey's glasses. "Here you are, Lass." Tracey slipped them on. "I did not see your distress myself, but your pet did."

"Jestana?" Tracey asked, looking down at the cat in question. Jestana's vivid green eyes were closed at the moment, her tail placidly swishing back and forth. "How could you find out from her?"

Minerva raised an eyebrow. "I _can_ turn into a cat, Lass. Or have you forgotten already?"

"Sorry," Tracey mumbled, dropping her gaze from the professor's.

Albus tipped her chin up. "There is no need to apologize, Child. You have had much to absorb and take in."

"Father, please don't call me that," Tracey requested, fighting back the anger that his endearment had triggered. He looked over at Minerva and the Deputy Headmistress nodded. Without a word, she rose and waved her wand at the room. Looking around, Tracey noticed that all of the breakable items had been moved, either to a safer spot or out of the room entirely. She felt a twinge of nervousness and looked up at Albus. "Father? What's going on? What are you doing?"

He looked resigned as he eased Tracey from him. "What I must, Child."

"Father! Don't call me that!" Tracey hardly noticed when Jestana jumped out of her lap and quietly left the room.

A touch on Tracey's shoulder made her turn and look straight into Minerva's eyes. "Let it out, Lass. He can withstand your anger."

Tracey looked from one to the other, comprehension dawning. "You're doing this deliberately, aren't you?"

"I am afraid so, Child," Albus replied, resolution in his gaze.

Anguish mixed with anger. "Why? Why are you doing this? Can't you just leave well enough alone?"

"No, Lass," Minerva's voice sounded sad and Tracey looked at her. "You cannot hold it all in. You _must_ let the dam break."

Tracey growled her frustration, balling her hands into fists, fighting to control her anger and her magic. "NO! I WON'T! I TOLD YOU WHY NOT! WHY CAN'T YOU ACCEPT IT?!"

"Child, your anger is a poison, eating at you from the inside out," Albus explained quietly. "Minerva's rooms have silencing charms on them and anything you break can be easily fixed."

Tracey struggled against her mounting anger and frustration with them. Why couldn't they leave her alone? She had only a few more weeks! Why did it have to be now!? "I don't want to hurt either of you. I care too much. Can't you just leave me alone?"

"There is a reason I am the only wizard Voldemort ever feared, Child," Albus told his daughter in ringing tones. "Minerva is a powerful witch in her own right. You will not harm us."

Tracey let out a cry that was equal parts anguish, frustration, and anger. "DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU BOTH! I DON'T WANT THIS! I DIDN'T ASK FOR IT! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"Let it go, Lass," Minerva's quiet voice pushed Tracey further.

Her magic whipping her pajamas now, she spun to face her future stepmother. "You know why I won't, Professor! Please stop!"

"We are truly sorry, Child, but we must." Her father's voice pushed Tracey over the edge.

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" she howled, her magic lashing out at Albus. He staggered from the sheer force of it, but Tracey didn't have enough training or control to do much damage. "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE! MY FRIENDS KEEP ASKING ME IF I WANT TO KNOW WHO MY BIOLOGICAL FATHER IS, TELLING ME THERE ARE SPELLS THAT CAN TELL ME! I CAN'T TELL THEM THAT I ALREADY KNOW! THAT HE'S THE HEADMASTER! I CAN'T TELL THEM ANYTHING! I CAN'T TELL THEM THAT MY MOM WAS TRANSPORTED OVER A HUNDRED YEARS THROUGH TIME!"

Minerva and Albus watched as a maelstrom of small objects gathered around the girl, her long auburn hair whipping around her. "You're doing fine, Child."

"FA-THER! STOP IT!" Tracey could feel her anger surging through her, pouring out of her. "I JUST WANT A NORMAL LIFE! MY FRIENDS JUST HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT WHAT KIND OF BROOMS THEY CAN GET, HOW MUCH POCKET MONEY THEY'LL HAVE OVER THE SUMMER, OR KEEPING THEIR KID BROTHERS OUT OF THEIR STUFF! I HAVE TO KEEP SECRET AFTER SECRET! I CAN'T TELL ANYONE WHO MY FATHER IS, OR THAT HE'S ENGAGED! THERE'S SO MUCH I CAN'T TELL ANYONE AND I HATE IT!" Tears were streaming down her cheeks now. "YOU BOTH GREW UP IN THE WIZARDING WORLD! YOU DON'T KNOW HOW OVERWHELMING IT IS FOR ME TO COME HERE! I DIDN'T EVEN GROW UP HERE IN ENGLAND! I MISS MY FRIENDS IN CALIFORNIA! I MISS THE WARMTH AND THE BEACHES! I MISS THE SMOG AND ICE CREAM ALL YEAR 'ROUND! I WANT TO GO SWIMMING AND SURFING, BUT THE WATER HERE IS TOO COLD! I WANT--I WANT MY LIFE BACK..."

Tracey's voice trailed off into sobs as she fell to her knees, the storm of magic petering out as she began sobbing uncontrollably, rocking back and forth, her arms wrapped tightly around her. She only cried harder when her father wrapped his arms around her, her tears now spotting his beard. A touch on her back told her that Minerva was there, too. They stayed like that for a long time, the two adults comforting the girl between them. When the sobs finally stopped, Albus asked, "Feel better now, Tracey?"

"Yeah, I guess--" She froze and slowly sat up, bright blue eyes wide. "You called me Tracey."

He nodded, a faint twinkle appearing in his eyes. "Yes, I did."

"Just don't ever call me 'child' again," Tracey warned him, wiping at her tear-streaked face.

He smoothed her hair back from her face. "Only if you promise to come to me if I do anything to upset you. All right?"

"Deal." She held out her hand and he stared at it for a moment before shaking it.

Minerva offered Tracey a handkerchief. "Here, Lass, wipe your face."

"Thanks, Prof--um, Aun--uh, Mother," Tracey replied, stumbling over what to call Minerva.

Minerva smiled, stroking the girl's hair as she scrubbed her face with the handkerchief. "'Aunt Minerva' will be fine until Albus and I are married."

"Then may I call you 'Mother'?" Tracey asked hopefully.

Minerva laughed softly and kissed Tracey's forehead. "Of course you may, but only in private."

"Yeah, I know, another secret to keep," Tracey made a face at that. This time, the thought of keeping a secret didn't bother her and she was mildly surprised.

Albus' beard and mustache tickled as he kissed Tracey's forehead. "I am sorry, Tracey, but we have no choice."

"I know, Father," Tracey leaned into him with a soft sigh. "I'll just have to get used to it."

Her father sighed as well. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Here's your handkerchief, Aunt Minerva." Tracey offered the object in question to Minerva.

The Deputy Headmistress accepted it and cleaned it with a muttered spell before looking at the clock. "We are going to be late for breakfast if we are not careful, Albus."

"We are?" Tracey felt Albus move so he could look at the clock as well. "I see. Tracey, look at me, please."

She sat up and looked into her father's face. "Yes, Father?"

"We do not have time to finish this discussion now, but I want you to come to my office tonight after dinner so we can talk. Understand?"

She nodded. "Yes, Father."

"Good." He kissed her forehead again. "You had better get along to Gryffindor Tower."

Tracey rose to her feet and headed for the door. "I will take you, Lassie, if you will not mind."

"Not at all, Aunt Minerva," Tracey replied, waiting in the doorway as Minerva slipped on her dressing gown.

Together, they left Minerva's rooms and headed up to Gryffindor Tower. Minerva left the girl in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady and Tracey continued her trip up to the dormitory she shared with her friends on her own.


	19. Purging Guilt

**19. Purging Guilt**

The moment Tracey entered the dormitory, she was bombarded with questions: "Where'd you go?" "What happened to you?" "Are you all right?"

Lynne asked the last question and it stopped the other girls in their tracks. Tracey looked questioningly at her friend. "What do you mean, Lynne?"

"You look like you've been through a windstorm," Lynne explained calmly. "Your eyes are red, too, as if you've been crying."

Tracey smiled faintly. Lynne was the quietest of the four, and the most observant, so Tracey wasn't surprised that she was the one to notice the little things. "I'm fine, Lynne. Don't worry about me."

"Are you sure?" Lynne looked concerned and Tracey didn't doubt that the concern was genuine.

Tracey nodded, trying to convince not only Lynne, but Ann and Natalie as well. "Yes, I am."

"Where'd you go?" Ann asked, staring at Tracey. "You were already asleep when we went to bed, but you were gone when we got up this morning."

Tracey thought quickly, trying to come up with a plausible lie. "I, uh, woke up really early and went down to the common room so I wouldn't disturb you three."

"We checked the common room when we saw that your bed was empty," Natalie replied as the other two shook their heads. "You weren't there, either."

_Damn._ Tracey thought a little more. "That's because Professor McGonagall found me there and took me to her office to talk."

The other girls seemed to accept this and left Tracey to get dressed. She breathed a sigh of relief and did just that, recalling a line from something she'd watched over the holidays. _The Monty Python boys are right: **nobody** expects the Spanish Inquisition._ Grinning to herself, she left the dormitory to join her friends for breakfast.

* * *

Tracey didn't take in that much that day. She was busy dreading the 'discussion' she'd be having with her father. She just _knew_ he would ask why she'd been so badly shaken last night and she wasn't looking forward to telling him. Most of the students were distracted anyway, so none of the teachers commented on Tracey's.

She picked at her food at dinner, her normally prodigious appetite having disappeared sometime during the day. Her friends noticed, but none of them said anything, although Tracey noticed more than one concerned look was sent her way.

When Albus rose and left the Great Hall, Tracey took it as her cue to leave, muttering something about needing to go to the library so her friends wouldn't worry. She plodded her way up to the Headmaster's office and raised a hand to knock on the door. The door itself opened before she had chance to do anything else and Tracey slipped inside. Her father was waiting for her. "This way, Tracey."

"Yes, Father." Tracey followed him across the office to an almost-unnoticeable door tucked into the corner.

He opened the door and she preceded him into his private study. She'd only been in here once before, but it was just as warm and cozy as she'd remembered. Before she could appreciate the room fully, a familiar voice called, "Tracey!"

"Mom!" The girl pelted across the room and into her mother's arms, burying her face in Sandra's blouse.

As she hugged her mother, another pair of arms enveloped mother and daughter. "Hi, Tracey."

"Hi, Dad." She raised her head to smile at her stepfather.

After a few moments, Albus cleared his throat and Tracey found herself sprawled between Sandra and Ryan on the hearthrug between the couch and the fire, with Albus and Minerva seated on the couch. Sandra gently stroked Tracey's hair as she fired questions at her first husband. "What's going on, Albus? Why did you ask us to come up here?"

"I am afraid that something happened last night that rather upset Tracey," Albus told them, his voice grave.

Tracey closed her eyes and listened without comment as Albus described the events of the previous evening. When he fell silent, Sandra turned Tracey's head to her, but the girl determinedly kept her eyes closed. "Tracey, look at me." Reluctantly, Tracey opened her eyes and met her mother's sympathetic hazel ones. "Cedric's body brought back memories, didn't it?"

"Yes." Tracey's voice was little more than a whisper and filled with so much pain that Sandra pulled her into her lap while Albus and Minerva joined them on the floor, conjuring up pillows so the five of them would be more comfortable. Touches on the girl's shoulders and back told her that the other three were there for her.

Ryan rubbed Tracey's back soothingly while Sandra gently rocked her back and forth. Albus sounded concerned as he asked, "What memories, Tracey? What happened to you?"

"Mom? Could you please tell them?" Tracey requested, fighting back tears as memories threatened to swamp her.

Sandra nodded and kissed her daughter's forehead before beginning, her voice strained. "When Tracey was about eight years old, the two of us were walking home from the nearby playground. Dusk was falling and we hadn't meant to stay so late, but we kept getting delayed for some reason or another." Tracey flinched, remembering that a couple of the delays were because she'd been a bit of a brat. "We were walking home and I'd just picked up Tracey because she was getting tired when someone grabbed me and dragged me into an alley." Tracey whimpered, pressing closer to her mother. "I didn't have time to let Tracey go, so she was dragged into the alley, too."

"Why? What happened in the alley?" Minerva asked when Sandra paused to soothe Tracey, who'd begun to tremble.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out on a shaky sigh, Tracey answered the question. "He wanted Mom's money and maybe have a little 'fun' with both of us."

"An eight-year-old girl?" Albus sounded incredulous, although his hand remained on Tracey's shoulder.

Tracey felt her mother shift and looked around to see that she'd put a hand on Albus' shoulder. "It's not age, beauty, or sometimes even sex that matters to men like that. All they care about is power, power over someone weaker than they are."

"Or one who appears to be weaker," Minerva added before looking at Tracey. "Did he succeed?"

Tracey shook her head as Sandra answered the question verbally, "No, he didn't. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I'd set Tracey on her feet so she could run for help as soon as she had the chance and he was threatening me if I didn't give him what money I had. When I refused, he pulled the trigger of the gun he'd pointed at me." Minerva drew in a sharp breath of surprise and Tracey felt Albus' hand tighten on her shoulder. "Somehow, as he pulled the trigger, it turned in his hand and the bullet hit him, not me."

"I killed him." Tracey's quiet statement startled all four adults. Tracey had a pretty good idea why. Sandra had suspected it, even at the time of the incident. Ryan had never even considered that Tracey was responsible. Albus and Minerva didn't even know that the would-be mugger had died.

After a long pause--during which, Tracey was sure, the adults were exchanging looks--Ryan asked, "How could you have killed him, Tracey?"

"Magic, Ryan," Sandra told her husband. "I told you that there had been incidents that made me suspect she was a witch, even before she got her letter."

Sounding confused, Ryan asked, "What does the guy shooting himself have to do with Tracey being a witch?"

"Everything, Mr. Cooper," Minerva answered quietly. "She used her magic to turn gun in his hand so your wife would not be killed."

Tracey was unprepared for Albus to pull from Sandra's lap and into his own. "Oh, my daughter, you had no choice. If you had not acted, your mother would have died."

"I could have done something else to stop him," Tracey whispered in an anguished voice, glad her father understood what tormented most. "He didn't _have_ to die."

Albus rocked her as she fought back the tears that threatened to swamp her. "You did not have the luxury of time. You did what you could and it resulted in his death."

"I _killed_ someone." Tracey's magic became palpable, creating a breeze that tugged at hair and clothes. "I'm a murderer."

"No more than I am for having killed Grindelwald." Tracey could hear the pain in her father's voice. "It was the mugger or your mother. Would you rather she had died?"

Tracey winced and tried to pull away, but he refused to let her go. After a short, futile struggle, she subsided and admitted. "No."

"It is only murder when you kill in cold blood, Lass." Minerva's Scottish burr broke the silence that had fallen over the room as the breeze Tracey's magic had created died down.

Those words, quietly spoken, broke the dam and Tracey began to cry, sobbing into her father's beard for the second time that day. The others gathered around father and daughter, offering their silent comfort. Surrounded by the four adults, Tracey let go of the guilt that had been festering inside her for almost four years.

* * *

"Professor?" Minerva looked up from the assignments she was marking to see one of her young lions peeking around the door of her office.

She set her quill down as she bade him enter, "Come in, Mr. Creevey." The small boy slipped into the room and timidly walked over to her desk. "What can I do for you?"

"I, er, haven't seen Tracey since dinner last night," Dennis explained, looking rather small. "I was wondering if you know where she is."

Minerva knew exactly where Tracey was. She'd cried herself to sleep in her father's arms the previous evening and Minerva really couldn't blame her. Between exploding at Albus and telling the story about the almost-mugging, she'd had an emotionally-draining day. Sandra had insisted that Tracey sleep with her mother and stepfather and Minerva hadn't seen any of them at breakfast. Albus had been there, however, and assured Minerva that Tracey was fine, if a still a little tired. Turning her attention to the boy in front of her, Minerva chose her words carefully to explain as honestly as she could without giving anything away: "Miss Cooper is with her mother and stepfather right now. Professor Dumbledore felt she would benefit from seeing her parents right away."

"Why?" Dennis asked, looking confused. "Everyone saw Cedric's body, why would Tracey be any different?"

Minerva sighed silently. "I cannot explain without Miss Cooper's permission. I would remind you, however, to remember that each of your peers has grown up differently. Each of you has a unique perspective on what is taking place around you, shaped by your upbringing and culture."

"I'm not sure I understand, Professor." Dennis looked confused.

Minerva thought for a moment. "Coming from a Muggle family, you find the wizarding world to be fantastic and strange, correct?" Dennis nodded. "I, on the other hand, grew up in the wizarding world. What you find fantastic and strange, I find ordinary and usual. Do you understand now?"

"I think so," Dennis answered thoughtfully. "So you're saying that the Third Task affected Tracey more than me because she's from America?"

Minerva considered that for a moment. "Partially, yes, but also because of something she experienced when she was younger."

"Cool!" Dennis brightened. "I wonder what it was!"

"Mr. Creevey." Minerva's voice kept the boy from darting off in search of Tracey. "Do not badger Miss Cooper about it. Let her choose to tell you in her own time. If you press her, you will lose her friendship."

He considered that for a long moment. "Thank you, Professor. May I go now?"

"Yes, you may." She watched him dash out of the office and sighed. _To have the energy of youth once more._

_A/N:_ I wrote most of this chapter in one evening and I'm rather proud of it. A friend commented that I use rape as a dramatic device too often in my stories, so I deliberately avoided it this time around, aside from hinting that he might've tried it. The line about the Monty Python boys is dedicated to Thestral Dea in thanks for introducing me to the incomparable John Hannah.


	20. The End

**20. The End**

_A/N: _Like the title says, this is the end of the story. However, I've written an epilogue to tie up some of the loose ends. Thank you very much to everyone who has reviewed and given me feedback; it was greatly appreciated.

"Albus, may I have a moment?" Sandra asked after Tracey had left to join her friends.

He nodded and gestured to the couch. "Certainly. What did you wish to speak about?"

"Your engagement," Sandra answered without preamble.

This caught him off-guard and he studied her for a moment before answering. "I am guessing that Tracey told you?"

"That's beside the point," Sandra told him, looking stern.

His brow furrowed slightly in puzzlement. "What is your point, then?"

"I was watching you and Minerva, both last night and this morning," Sandra explained. "You've asked her to delay the wedding, haven't you?"

He fought the urge to squirm like schoolboy caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. "I am not sure what you mean."

Sandra sighed and rolled her eyes. "Albus, I know the return of Voldemort means danger, not only for Harry, but for you and anyone close to you." She paused before adding. "Including Minerva and Tracey."

"Yes, I am afraid you are right," he told her quietly, staring into the flames flickering in the fireplace. "Voldemort's return has changed everything." He turned to her. "Take Tracey and go."

She blinked and stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I do not want to see my daughter hurt just because I happen to be her father." His eyes bored into hers.

She stared at him for a moment before bristling. "Albus Dumbledore, you're being an idiot."

He blinked, surprised. "I do believe that is the first time someone has called me that to my face."

"Don't you dare laugh!" she warned him. "I realize that Tracey is in danger because she is your daughter, but I won't take away her chance to truly get to know you. We'll protect her as best we can, but I refuse to turn tail and run just because _you_ don't want her to get hurt."

Apparently Tracey got her Gryffindor courage from more than one parent. "Sandra, be reasonable--"

"_No_, Albus." Sandra glared at him. "You can't always protect her and you'll just have to accept that, just like every parent has to eventually."

He sighed and closed his eyes. "Very well, Sandra, I see your point."

"Good. What about Minerva?" Sandra's question surprised him and he opened his eyes to stare at her. "Don't you dare say you've no idea what I'm talking about. You know very well what I mean."

He sighed. Unfortunately, he knew what she meant. "I asked her if she would mind waiting until after the war to be married."

"I take that back, you're not an idiot." He didn't have a chance to be relieved before she added, "You're an imbecile."

"What, pray tell, makes you say that?" he asked, feeling nettled.

Sandra leaned forward, looking annoyed more than anything else. "You're doing exactly what Voldemort would want: putting your life on hold until everything's over. No one knows how long this war will last, nor how many lives will be lost. For all you know, you could die before the war is over. You don't know how much time you and Minerva have left. Take this chance you have, marry her, and enjoy however much time you two will have together. If you don't, Voldemort wins already."

* * *

Tracey was feeling much better now. It felt like she'd been full of bad feeling for the last six or seven months, which hadn't been helped by the fact that the weather was colder than she was used to. She was already planning on buying trousers in the summer when her family went to Diagon Alley for school things. Skirts were just too drafty for her tastes, particularly on breezy days.

What surprised Tracey was that none of her friends asked where she'd disappeared to when she'd gone to her father's office. She mentioned this when she went to Minerva's office to share a cup of tea. "Lynne, at least would have asked where I was, but she didn't."

"That is because your friend, Dennis Creevey, came looking for you the following morning," Minerva told the girl. "I told him you were with your parents and asked him not to badger you about the reason you needed to see them."

Tracey smiled, very thankful that Minerva had been able to prevent awkward questions being asked of her. "Thank you, Professor. I was not looking forward to avoiding questions."

"You are welcome, Miss Cooper," Minerva replied, taking a sip of tea. "Is there anything else?"

Tracey thought for a moment before nodding. "Yes, there is, actually."

"Oh?" Minerva raised an eyebrow questioningly.

Tracey nodded again. "Yes. Lynne _did_ comment that I seemed to be more cheerful, more upbeat. I'm not quite sure what she means."

"You may not have realized this, but the anger and hurt festering inside you, not to mention the guilt, have made you rather quiet and reserved," Minerva quietly explained. "You never laughed, hardly smiled, and tended to snap at people who annoyed you. Now that those bad feelings have been released, you're much more like the cheerful, bouncy young lady you were when you first arrived here at Hogwarts."

Tracey stared at Minerva with wide eyes, thinking back over the school year. "You're right. It didn't help that I'm _still_ not used to the cold, although the weather today is closer to what we got in California."

"I am glad to hear that," Minerva replied, smiling slightly.

Tracey grinned. "So am I." She glanced at her watch and sighed. "I'd better go. I'll see you at dinner, Professor." Before Minerva could reply, Tracey was gone, heading to the Gryffindor common room to spend time with her friends. Life wasn't perfect, but Tracey had come to realize that it never would be, no matter how much she wished otherwise.

* * *

Minerva had been rather quiet of late, but most attributed it to the supposed return of Voldemort. That, however, was not true. The true cause had taken place the day after. Albus had asked her to have lunch with him in his office. She'd agreed...

_Lunch was delicious and they ate eat in silence. When they finally finished and the remains vanished, Minerva voiced the question that had been on her mind all morning, "Albus, did you wish to discuss something with me?"_

_"Yes, my dear, I do," he replied with a nod._

_She'd thought as much. "Very well, what is it?"_

_"Given what happened last night, I hope you will understand when I ask that we postpone our wedding," he said all this very calmly and could have been discussing the weather they'd been having for all the emotion he'd shown._

_Minerva hadn't been expecting **this**! She sat and stared at him, fighting to control her emotions before replying. "How long would you want to postpone the wedding for?"_

_"Until after the war," he told her, no twinkle in his eyes, which told her he was very serious._

_Feeling tears threaten, she nodded. "Very well. Until after the war." With that, she hurried from his office and to her rooms, where the tears flowed, unbidden down her cheeks. Was it just an excuse to avoid marrying her? Had he decided he didn't love her anymore and didn't know how to tell her? These and other questions tortured her until she fell asleep on the sofa..._

She'd never asked him those questions, unwilling risk confirming her suspicions. She'd been utterly miserable the past few days, but none had questioned her. The only one who might was Poppy and she'd been spending all her spare time in the Hospital Wing with Alastor Moody. "Minerva?"

"Yes, Albus?" She looked up to see him standing in the doorway to her office. "Was there something you wanted?"

He nodded, closing the door and locking it. "There was, actually."

"What is it, then?" she asked, feeling as if the little food she'd managed to eat had become a lump of lead in her stomach. This was it, what she'd dreaded: he wanted the ring back.

He crossed to the desk and stood looking down at her for a long moment. She fought the urge to squirm, determined not to let him see how much she was hurting. "My dear, it has come to my attention that you've not been eating well. Are you ill?"

"No, Albus, I am fine." _Unless you count heartbreak as an illness._

She watched as he moved around the desk to stand beside her. She didn't resist when he gently pulled her to her feet and into his arms. She let herself lean into him, breathing in the smell of chocolate and lemons that was uniquely him. "Minerva?"

"Yes, Albus?" She closed her eyes, determined to savor this last moment in his arms.

He picked up her left hand and kissed the invisible engagement ring. "Would you like to get married this summer?"

"What?" She pulled back and stared up at him, surprised. "Why the sudden change of mind, Albus?"

"Sandra reminded me that war is uncertain and one or both of us might not live through it," he explained, his eyes meeting hers. "She suggested I marry you _now_ and enjoy whatever time we have left together."

She continued to stare at him for several moments, trying to sort through everything. Slowly, the full import of what he'd asked hit her. "You want to get married this summer, as we'd planned?"

"Yes, I do," he nodded. "I love you, Minerva, and want to be with you always." Overcome with emotion, buried her face in her hands and turned away. "Minerva?" he sounded worried. "My dear, what is it?"

Joy, wonder, confusion, and anger tumbled through her, fighting for supremacy. "Why did you ask to postpone our marriage in the first place?"

"I do not wish to see you hurt," he explained, his voice reasonable.

That infuriated her and spun to face him. "Then you decided not to postpone our marriage just because _Sandra_ thought it was a good idea?"

"My dear, please." He looked and sounded worried. "I had been reconsidering my request ever since you left my office so precipitously."

Anger was uppermost in her now and she let it have free rain. "Do you have any idea what you've put me through?" He mutely shook his head. "I've been utterly miserable the past few days because I thought you didn't want to marry me at all, that your request to postpone our marriage was a way for you to stall for time as you tried to determine how best to tell me you've no wish to marry me after all, that you regretted asking in the first place."

"Oh, Minerva, no." He tried to take her in his arms, but she held up a hand. "My love, please, listen to me." She nodded, glaring at him. "I asked to postpone the marriage because I truly feared for your safety. I do not wish to see you harmed."

She frowned at him. "I asked you last summer not to do this to me."

"Do what to you?" he asked, puzzled.

She sighed. "Try to protect me. No matter how hard you try, Albus, you cannot prevent everyone you care about from getting hurt."

"I am sorry for putting you through this, Minerva," he told her sincerely. "Please forgive me."

A smile broke her stony expression as she stepped into his arms and kissed him soundly.

Finite, with an Epilogue to follow.


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"We are gathered here to witness the joining of two souls in the bonds of marriage. The magic of those souls is only theirs to give. It is their love for each other that will make this union strong." Professor Flitwick's squeaky voice carried to each ear in the room as Minerva and Albus stood before him with eyes only for each other. She wore robes of bridal white, a wreath of white roses and orange blossoms contrasting with the ebony of her hair, which fell in waves to her waist. He wore robes of the deepest purple, with silver moons and stars embroidered along the neckline, sleeves, and bottom. Their love for each other was almost tangible and made more than one woman a little teary-eyed. "Those of us who have worked with them or grown up with could not imagine a pair more different, but their differences are complements. One would not be complete without the other."

Tracey swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, determined not to miss a thing. "We are here as witnesses to the bond they will create between them, but we have a duty as well. We are here to help them nurture and preserve their love in times of turmoil and times of joy, and to keep them safe by maintaining the secrecy of their love and this ceremony until such time as they deem it possible for us to speak of it." This, Tracey understood all too well. With Voldemort back and the Ministry turning a blind eye to the possibility, Albus and Minerva could not risk anyone learning of their marriage at this time.

Filius turned to Minerva, "Minerva Renee McGonagall, is it true that you come of your own free will and accord?"

Her dark eyes locked with Albus', she answered unwaveringly, "Yes, it is."

Filius next turned to Albus, "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, is it true that you come of your own free will and accord?"

"Yes, it is," Albus' voice was calm, but Tracey could hear the joy thrumming underneath.

"Who can bear witness to the love these two share?" Filius asked the room at large.

Poppy Pomfrey and Rolanda Hooch stepped forward, each laying a hand on one of Minerva's shoulders while Alastor Moody and Stephen Carrick, a Healer and apparently good friend of Albus and Minerva's, each laid a hand on one of Albus' shoulders. Together, the four answered, "We can."

At a nod from Filius, the four of them returned to their seats. "And whose blessing accompany you?"

Minerva's mother, Diana McGonagall, rose from her seat. "The blessing of Minerva Renee McGonagall's family, both those here today and those gone before."

As she sat, Aberforth Dumbledore, rose from his seat. "The blessings of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore's family, both those here today and those gone before."

"Please join hands," Filius requested. Albus and Minerva did so, their fingers entwining with each other automatically. "Let the powers of your intellects guide you in your marriage, let the strength of your wills and your magic bind you together, let the power of your love and your desire for one another make you happy, and the strength of your dedication to this joining make you inseparable even beyond death itself. So now I ask you, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and you, Minerva Renee McGonagall, to pledge your vows to one another, and to seal those vows by presenting each other with the rings you have chosen as tokens of your love."

Albus plucked Minerva's ring from the tray Filius held and slowly slipped it onto Minerva's finger as he said, "I invoke the gods of creation, the gods of the elements, and the gods of love to bless our union. I willingly, and without reservation, enter into this bond with you Minerva Renee McGonagall."

Minerva repeated Albus' actions. "I invoke the heavens to allow my soul to blend harmoniously throughout time with the one who stands before me now. I willingly, and without reservation, enter into this bond with you, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

Filius pulled out the official parchment for the two to sign and, once they had, sealed it and tapped it with his wand, sending it to the Hall of Records at the Ministry. Once Filius had placed their marriage under the Fidelius Charm, no one would be able to see their rings or the paperwork until Filius had ended the charm. "It is now time to cast the bonding spell."

Filius nodded for Albus and Minerva to proceed. They reached out and clasped their left hands together between them so their rings touched. Each removed his/her wand from his/her robe pocket, and placed the tip of his/her wand upon the other's ring. They nodded their readiness to each other and began chanting together. "By the magic that courses within my blood and the love that resides within my heart, I take thee to my hand, my heart, and my spirit, to be my chosen one. To desire thee and be desired by thee, to possess thee, and be possessed by thee, without sin or shame, for naught can exist in the purity of my love for thee. I promise to love thee wholly and completely without restraint, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in life and beyond, where we shall meet, remember, and love again. I shall not seek to change thee in any way. I shall respect thee, thy beliefs, thy people, and thy ways as I respect myself. Our bodies, our hearts, our minds, our souls we give to this union. '_Iunctio_ _Matrimonium_ _Infinitas_'." Their rings glowed brightly for a moment and then faded back to their natural state.

"You have declared your intentions before your friends here present, and those who reside in the heavens above. It is with great pride that I declare that you are bonded. May God shower his blessings upon you both. Albus, you may kiss the bride."

When Albus took Minerva in his arms, she murmured something that Tracey couldn't hear. He murmured something back before kissing her. Everyone in the room, including the two participants, was awed by the bright glow that surrounded the two as their magics mingled and finally coalesced. Filius turned to the guests to explain, "That is what happens when two persons have absolutely no reservations about their joining. I've been privileged to witness it only twice before." The murmurs this announcement caused died down immediately when Filius added, "And now, I must again remind you of the need to keep this ceremony and the love that these two share as a secret amongst ourselves. The version of the Fidelus charm I am casting on them tonight will effectively hide their rings and the official documentation of this joining, but not any of our memories or feelings. We owe them our thanks for trusting us to keep them safe and allowing us to share in this celebration today, and we will repay them by keeping their bond a secret."

As Filius intoned the spell, their rings faded out of vision. Tracey sighed happily. It had been a beautiful ceremony and she was glad she'd been allowed to witness it.

* * *

During her second year, Tracey was incensed by Umbridge's audacity. When Tracey heard that her father had been forced to leave the school, she immediately went to her stepmother. Minerva welcomed her stepdaughter, but reminded her that discretion and caution were the watchwords of the time. Tracey didn't take offense at the reminder, more aware that it was said out of genuine care and affection for her. Tracey watched with Lynne, Ann, and Natalie as Minerva was carried back up to the castle. She tried not to cry in front of the others, but a comforting touch on her shoulder was all she needed for the tears to flood down her face. The others gathered around her, offering wordless comfort.

Tracey rose early the next morning to visit the Hospital Wing. When she reached it, however, Poppy told her that Minerva had been transferred to St. Mungo's. Tears appeared again and Poppy enfolded the girl in a motherly hug, well aware of how important Minerva was to Tracey. Too upset to go to classes, Tracey spent the morning in the Hospital Wing, and then went to lunch. After lunch, she went straight up to her dormitory and curled up in bed for the rest of the day.

She was relieved when Albus returned to Hogwarts and visited him as soon as she could. The state of his office surprised her and she demanded to know what had happened. He would only tell her that Harry had been very upset with him and had thrown everything around. Tracey reluctantly accepted the explanation and offered him the comfort of her mere presence. When Minerva returned, Tracey waited until after dinner to see her stepmother, wanting to give Albus some quiet time with Minerva first. When Minerva opened her door to Tracey, she merely commented that she and Albus had been waiting for Tracey to arrive. As she visited with her father and stepmother, Tracey was reassured by the obvious love between the two. She was much happier when she went to bed that night.

That summer, Voldemort began to move more openly, attacking the families of Muggle-born students. Many of the families moved away from England to escape the attacks, but not all of them could afford to do such a thing. Albus offered to have Order members put up wards and shields around their homes and many of them accepted the offer. Albus and Minerva personally erected the wards around the flat Tracey's family lived in. Although Sandra and Ryan were doubtful of the effectiveness of the shield, Tracey assured them that it was very strong. When Sandra inquired further, Tracey explained that, not only was Albus a powerful wizard, Minerva was powerful in her own right, so, between them, the wards were very strong.

That school year was very tense and melancholy. Almost every day, students learned that this or that family member had died. Every day, Tracey hoped and prayed that her family was safe at home. When Tracey returned for the summer holidays, she found her parents edgy and tense. Voldemort's presence was beginning to be felt in the Muggle world as well and Tracey overheard her parents discussing whether they should return to California or stay in England. She was very glad when they decided to stay.

It was during Tracey's fourth year that Harry defeated Voldemort. However, Albus and Minerva did not reveal their marriage right away. They decided to wait until the uproar died down. Arthur Weasley was elected Minister of Magic at the time and he worked diligently to remove spies leftover from the war. Alastor Moody was put in charge of the Aurors, who spent much of their time searching for escaped Death Eaters. Arthur also made sure that none of the captured Death Eaters could buy their way out of Azkaban, which was now being guarded by Aurors.

Although Albus and Minerva had intended to wait at least a year before revealing their marriage, an unexpected event forced their hand a few months early...

"How is it possible, Poppy?" Minerva asked, staring at her friend in shock and wonder.

The Healer gave her friend a look. "If I have to explain it to you, Minerva, what have you and Albus been doing all these years?"

"That is not what I meant," Minerva retorted, although a faint pink appeared in her cheeks. "I am not exactly young, you know. I thought I would not be able to get pregnant."

Poppy sighed and sat down on the bed beside the Deputy Headmistress. "Minerva, your husband is the only wizard He-Who-Is-Now-Dead feared, because he is so powerful. You are powerful in your own right. Your magic bonded with his when you married. With all the power, it is quite feasible for you to become pregnant."

"Why now, though?" Minerva asked, staring down at her still-flat abdomen. "Why not earlier?"

Poppy shook her head. "I have no clear answer, although I would say your combined magic knew the danger and prevented a pregnancy until the danger had passed."

Minerva nodded thoughtfully. "You may be right."

"Are you going to tell Albus?" Poppy inquired, gray eyes bright with curiosity.

Minerva stared at Poppy. "Of course I am." She paused. "I just do not know how."

"You will." Poppy patted Minerva's hand. "When the right moment comes, you will know."

Minerva smiled. "Thank you, Poppy."

"You're welcome, Minerva." Poppy smiled back. With that, they began to discuss the changes that would need to be made for the baby's sake.

* * *

Tracey and Colin had agreed on a Muggle wedding, since they'd both been raised in the Muggle world. The exchange of rings and vows was adapted to allow for the fact that he was a wizard and she was a witch. Most of their guests were from the wizarding world and the few Muggles would either have all memories of the magic Obliviated, or promised not to tell anyone. What caused the most stir was the fact that Ryan _and_ Albus escorted Tracey down the aisle to where Colin waited. The wedding party had been made aware of Albus' relationship to Tracey, but most of the guests were surprised and Tracey didn't doubt that Albus' participation in the wedding ceremony would be reported in the newspapers the next day.

Minerva went into labor during the wedding reception and Tracey refused to go on her honeymoon until Minerva had given birth. At about ten-thirty that night, Albus emerged, into the waiting room, carrying a blue-swathed bundle. He walked over to where Sandra was holding a three-old-girl with black hair and bright blue eyes. "Diana?"

"Yes, Dada?" She looked up at her father curiously.

"I want you to meet your brother: Ambrose Brian Dumbledore." Albus sat down beside Sandra and pulled back the blanket so Diana could see Ambrose's sleeping face. A fuzz of auburn hair already covered his head.

Diana inspected her brother carefully before looking up at her father. "Me like."

"I am glad you like him, Di." Albus kissed his daughter's forehead before standing and letting the others in the waiting room have a look at his son.

Tracey and Colin were last, already wearing their traveling clothes. "He's going to be handsome, just like his father."

"Thank you, Tracey." Albus smiled at his oldest before looking at his new son-in-law. "I think it is time you left for your honeymoon."

Tracey smiled and kissed Albus' cheek. "Pass my congratulations on to Mother?"

"Of course, now go." Albus kissed her forehead and shifted Ambrose to one arm so he could shake Colin's hand. "Enjoy yourselves."

Tracey's smile turned into a grin. "Oh, we intend to, Father. We intend to."

"I'll take good care of her, I promise," Colin assured his father-in-law. "Don't forget to add my congratulations to Tracey's."

Albus nodded. "I won't forget, now go."

Holding hands, the new husband and wife disappeared from the waiting room and reappeared in the lobby of the wizarding hotel they'd chosen for their honeymoon. When they were finally alone in their hotel room, Tracey hesitantly asked if Colin regretted delaying the start of their honeymoon. Shaking his head, he drew her into his arms. "No, Tracey, I don't regret it in the slightest. In fact, I would have been surprised if you'd decided to leave before Ambrose arrived."

"I couldn't exactly leave before I knew if I had a brother or a sister," Tracey explained, as she rested her head on Colin's shoulder. Tracey had grown to just under five feet while Colin had managed to reach just over five feet.

They stood like that for a few minutes, enjoying their first chance for privacy all day. Eventually, Tracey lifted her head and kissed her new husband. Colin gladly returned the kiss and they didn't waste time adjourning to the bedroom. Comfortably ensconced in Colin's arms afterwards, Tracey slowly drifted off to sleep. Just before sleep claimed her completely, she felt Colin press a kiss to her forehead and murmur, "My lioness."

Finite

_A/N:_ Many thanks to Magdelena for letting me borrow the wedding ceremony she used in 'Who's Marrying Whom?' I bet most of you thought Tracey was going to marry Dennis. -grin- I considered it, but decided he was too much like a brother for them to develop romantic feelings for each other. In case you were wondering where Diana came from, she was born the summer after Tracey's fifth year. Tracey and Colin waited for a year after Tracey finished at Hogwarts before they got married. Conveniently, Albus and Minerva's bonded magic timed the conception of the children so they would be born during the summer holidays. Diana's birthday is in early August while Ambrose's is late June. Once again, I'd like to thank everyone for their reviews and support.


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